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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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A 

MEMORIAL 


EGYPT,  THE  RED  SEA,  THE  WILDERNESSES  OF 
SIN  AND  PARAN,  MOUNT  SINAI, 

JERUSALEM, 


AND 

OTHER  PRINCIPAL  LOCALITIES 

OP  THE 


HOLY  LAND; 

VISITED  IN  1842  ; 

WITH  BRIEF  NOTES  OF  A  ROUTE  THROUGH  FRANCE,  ROME,  NAPLES, 
CONSTANTINOPLE,  AND  UP  THE  DANUBE. 


BY  THE 

REV.  GEORGE* FISK,  LL.B, 

PREBENDARY  OF  LICHFIELD  ; 

AND  MINISTER  OF  CHRIST  CHAPEL,  SAINT  JOHN’S  WOOD,  LONDON. 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS, 

No.  530  BROADWAY. 


1867. 


I  think  it  right  to  avow,  what  the  intelligent 
reader  will,  however,  soon  discover  for  himself,  that  as 
a  literary  production,  this  book  is  of  small  pretension. 
It  is  a  sketch,  and  nothing  more — just  what  its  title  in¬ 
dicates  ;  and  primarily  intended  to  give  my  flock  some 
instructive  idea  of  the  way  in  which  the  interval  of  my 
absence  from  them  was  spent.  As  a  Pastor’s  familiar 
narrative,  it  contains  many  particulars  in  which  the 
public  cannot  be  expected  to  sympathize  as  those  will 
who  are  so  personally  related  to  me. 

My  journey  occupied  something  less  than  eight 
months — a  space  of  time  affording  but  little  opportu¬ 
nity  for  adding  to  those  stores  of  information  already 
extant — the  production  of  gifted  authors,  who  taken 
altogether,  may  be  said  to  have  nearly  exhausted  most 
of  the  topics  on  which  I  have  briefly  touched  in  passing. 

I  had  intended  to  intersperse  my  narrative  with  cer¬ 
tain  views  of  prophecy,  which  from  time  to  time  have 
presented  themselves  to  my  mind,  in  a  way  not  as  yet 
fully  wrought  out ;  and  to  add  more  extensive  particu¬ 
lars  of  the  state  and  prospects  of  Israel,  as  connected 
with  those  of  the  Ottoman  empire  :  but  I  have  been 
obliged  to  forbear,  in  the  hope  of  turning  my  attention 


PREFACE. 


IT 


to  them  hereafter  ;  for  my  great  difficulty  has  been  to 
narrow  my  subject,  without  really  contracting  it ;  and 
yet  to  expand  sufficiently  without  making  it  too  diffuse. 
To  be  adequately  treated,  it  would  demand  volumes. 
I  do,  however,  indulge  the  hope,  that  those  for  whom 
this  sketch  has  been  more  especially  made,  will  not  rise 
from  the  perusal  with  regret  that  they  ever  requested 
me  to  write. 

I  may  perhaps  be  permitted  to  add,  that  my  materials 
were  hastily  noted  down  from  day  to  day,  amidst  the 
wearisomeness  of  travel ;  and,  for  the  most  part,  under 
the  influence  of  a  trying  climate  ;  and  that  this  Memo¬ 
rial  has  been  drawn  up,  not  in  literary  ease  and  leisure, 
but  amidst  those  incessant  and  higher  demands  upon 
my  time  which  are  inseparable  from  the  spiritual  over¬ 
sight  of  a  large  manufacturing  population. 

They  who  know  me,  and  respect  my  motive  in  pub¬ 
lishing,  will  look  indulgently  upon  all  the  defectiveness 
in  execution  which  they  cannot  fail  to  notice,  and  of 
which  none  can  be  more  sensible  than  myself.  I  say 
not  this  to  forestall  criticism,  but  only  to  bespeak  kindli¬ 
ness  towards  an  effort  for  the  gratification  and  instruc¬ 
tion  of  others,  in  which,  circumstanced  as  I  am,  I  have 
done  what  I  could. 


INDEX  TO  CHAPTERS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

% 

European  Route— Outward . 

CHAPTER  II. 

Egypt .  ... 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Arabian  Desert;  from  Cairo  to  Mount  Sinai 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Desert  ;  from  Mount  Sinai  to  Akabah 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Desert;  from  Akabah  to  Dhaheriyeh  . 

CHAPTER  YI. 

Palestine;  from  Dhaheriyeh  to  Jerusalem 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Jerusalem  . 

CHAPTER  VIII. 


PAGE 

7 


70 


117 


164 


195 


219 


242 


The  Dead  Sea,  Jordan,  etc. 


291 


VI 


INDEX. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PAGE 

Jerusalem,  Syciiar,  Nazareth,  etc . 323 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Islands  op  the  Archipelago  and  Constantinople  .  394 


Homeward 

CHAPTER  XI. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Final 


445 


MEMORIAL,  ETC. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EUROPEAN  ROUTE— OUTWARD. 


Motives,  etc. — France — Boulogne — Romish  Preaching — Caviglia — French  Diligence— 
Lyons — Romish  Superstitions — The  Rhone — Avignon — Nismes — Genoa — Civita- 
Vecchia — Rome — Dogana — St.  Peter’s — Pantheon — Ancient  Rome — Rome  :  “  Holy 
Week” — The  Pope — Papal  Benediction — Italian  Character  and  Habit — Albano — 
Velletri — Pontine  Marshes — Terracina — Appian  Way — Fondi — Mola — Tomb  of 
Cicero — St.  Agatha — Capua — Naples — Monte  Posilipo — Virgil’s  Tomb — Puzzuoli 
— Biae — Ancient  Remains — Carmelite  Monastery — St.  Januarius — Naples— Popery 
— Purgatory — Pompeii — Ascent  of  Vesuvius — Vesuvius — Procession  of  the  “  Host’ 
— Sicily — Scylla  and  Charybdis — Rhegium — Syracuse — Malta — Sea  storm — Zante 
— Melita— Malta — Syra — Crete — Mahommedan  Devotions — First  view  of  Alexan¬ 
dria — Arrival  at  Alexandria — Alexandria. 

When  preparing  this  narrative,  principally  for  the  perusal 
of  the  members  of  a  beloved  flock  at  whose  request  it  was 
undertaken,  I  felt  that,  in  order  to  give  a  view  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  period  of  my  absence  from  them  was  passed,  I 
must  introduce  many  a  scene  and  topic  already  familiar  to 
those  whose  reading  has  lain  in  the  way  of  voyages  and  trav¬ 
els.  I  do  not  expect  to  add  much  to  the  impressions  made  on 
the  public  mind  by  travellers  more  extensive,  and  authors 
more  gifted  than  myself;  but  I  just  entertain  the  hope,  that 
many,  who  have  not  had  much  opportunity  for  perusing 
what  has  been  already  written  upon  the  scenes  of  my  pil¬ 
grimage,  may  participate  the  deep  interest  I  have  felt,  and 
share  the  instruction  I  have  derived  from  a  visit  to  the  most 
intensely  interesting  localities  in  the  world ;  and  certainly, 
when  I  left  the  shores  of  my  native  land,  with  broken  health 
and  unfitness  for  the  toils  of  parochial  duty,  it  was  under  the 
persuasion  that  I  was  not  about  to  travel  for  my  own  selfish 
gratification,  but  with  an  extended  motive — and  I  think  a 


8 


MOTIVES,  ETC. 

high  one  too,  comprehending  in  it  a  desire  to  benefit  my  flock 
as  well  as  myself. 

It  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  depict  the  state  of  mind  with 
which  I  prepared  for  an  undertaking  that  looked  so  much 
like  enterprise,  to  one,  whose  life  had  been  spent  within  the 
narrow  ocean-girdle  of  Britain,  and  much  of  it  in  the  com¬ 
paratively  retired  occupations  of  a  Christian  pastor.  Diffi¬ 
culties  I  knew  were  to  be  met,  and  dangers,  perhaps,  to  be 
encountered,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  countries  and  cli¬ 
mates  through  which  I  proposed  to  travel,  which  might  be 
trying  and  distressing  to  one,  whose  past  connexion  with 
home  and  the  scenes  and  employments  of  home  had  been  the 
source  of  comfort  and  delight ;  but  still,  a  great  point  was  to 
be  gained  ;  and  scenes  which  had  become  endeared  and  sacred 
to  me  ever  since  the  Bible  first  poured  its  light  and  truth  into 
my  heart,  seemed  to  invite  me  at  a  distance  ;  and  well  I  knew 
that  God,  who  had  in  ancient  days  manifested  himself  there 
to  patriarchs  and  prophets  and  apostles — and  especially  in  his 
own  dear  Son,  would  still  be  there  in  the  energy  of  his 
power,  and  in  the  tenderness  of  his  love,  and  in  the  richness 
of  his  gospel  grace.  As  a  Christian  man,  I  went  forth  to 
visit  the  birthplace  and  cradle  of  Christianity,  with  my  Bible 
for  my  guide-book  and  solace  ;  and  it  is  a  record  of  impres¬ 
sions  made  upon  a  Christian  mind  that  I  wish  to  present  in 
these  pages. 

It  is  neither  my  desire  nor  intention  to  describe  emotions 
and  sensations  occasioned  by  the  presence  of  venerable  and 
sacred  objects,  for  the)'',  of  necessity,  must  be  peculiar  to  the 
tone  and  habit  of  individual  minds,  and  therefore,  not  unfre- 
quently  obscure,  and  generally  unsatisfactory  to  others,  whose 
susceptibilities  have  never  been  awakened  by  the  actual  pres¬ 
ence  of  the  objects  to  which  they  may  refer.  Mere  emotions 
and  sensations  are  really  very  inconsiderable  matters,  though 
they  commonly  give  a  complexion  to  the  actions  of  our  daily 
life  ;  they  are  not  of  us,  but  they  are  about  and  within  us ; 
they  come  and  go  unbidden,  and  without  our  control ;  they 
bear,  in  general,  but  little  trace  of  their  whereabout ;  they  are 


9 


MOTIVES,  ETC. - FRANCE. 

ready  to  take  flight  at  any  moment  when  the  wing  of  time 
and  change  prepares  to  waft  them  away ;  and  the  heart  on 
which  they  have  lighted  for  a  season,  is  apt  to  be  as  incon¬ 
stant  and  changeful  as  they.  But,  there  is  a  deep,  inward 
process,  far  beyond  sensation  and  emotion,  which  goes  on  in 
hearts  directed  and  regulated  in  their  movements  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  and  which  results  in  depositing  impressions  as  en¬ 
during  as  the  mind  itself — impressions  from  a  die  formed 
with  the  lines  of  thoughtful  reflectiveness,  and  intelligible,  on 
their  exposure,  to  other  minds  acted  on  by  a  similar  influence. 

The  charm  of  all  visible  things,  or  the  reverse,  is  the  effect 
of  some  inward  impression  made  by  them  on  the  seat  of  the 
intellect  and  the  affections ;  and  it  is  the  province  of  such 
impressions  to  recall,  not  only  the  objects  themselves,  hut  all 
that  stands  in  association  with  them,  whether  referring  to  the 
past,  the  present,  or  the  future.  And  it  is  possible,  in  the 
way  of  simple  narrative  and  description  to  give  such  a  por¬ 
traiture  of  events,  persons  and  places,  as  shall  bring  them 
before  the  minds  of  others  with  startling  vividness  and  reali¬ 
ty  ;  but  that  is  not  all  we  want.  It  is  the  invisible  portraiture 
of  things  reflected  on  the  heart,  reproduced  and  given  forth 
from  mind  to  mind,  which  alone  has  power  to  satisfy  the  en¬ 
quiring  and  rightly  discerning  spirit.  And  I  am  not  without 
hope  that  such  will  read  these  pages  with  interest. 


When  we  weighed  anchor  on  the  fifth  of  March,  1842, 
at  the  dawn  of  day,  in  the  stirring  port  of  London,  and  when 
I  felt  that  a  few  hours  would  probably  land  me  on  a  foreign 
shore,  I  could  but  look  around  amidst  the  forest  of  masts,  and 
contemplate  the  indications  they  afforded  of  England’s  na¬ 
tional  greatness  and  commercial  importance ;  and  in  that 
contemplation,  I  could  not  help  blending  a  thought  of  the 
vastness  of  her  responsibility  as  a  Christian  nation,  blest  with 
the  fulness  of  gospel  light,  and  enriched  beyond  other  lands 
in  gospel  privileges. 


10 


BOULOGNE  — ROMISH  TEE  ACHING. 


Ten  hours  and  a  half  of  pleasant  sailing  brought  us  to  the 
port  of  Boulogne.  The  first  sight  of  the  shores  of  France 
awakened  in  my  mind  many  a  train  of  thought  bearing  upon 
her  past  history  as  well  as  her  present  condition  and  prospects. 
True — the  age  of  her  chivalry  was  gone,  and  perhaps  some¬ 
what  of  her  national  glory  departed  :  clouds  had  burst  over 
her,  and  the  volcanic  eruptions  of  political  terror  had  lacerated 
her :  light  and  darkness  had  undergone  many  a  conflict  with¬ 
in  her,  and  deep  traces  of  the  latter,  in  a  spiritual  form,  were 
abundantly  visible ;  but  still  no  one  could  deny  that  there 
were  yet  left  in  France  materials  of  a  great  and  noble  kind, 
on  which  a  regenerative  process,  political,  moral,  and  spiritual, 
might  act  successfully.  For  this  every  Christian  heart  should 
pray  ;  and  if  it  please  God  that  the  movement  towards  spirit¬ 
ual  light  which  has  happily  begun,  and  towards  which  many 
influential  minds  are  now  inclining,  both  in  and  out  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  should  grow  and  effectually  extend  itself, 
there  is  no  height  of  national  greatness  to  which  France  may 
not  arise. 

It  was  on  Sunday — the  day  after  our  arrival  at  Boulogne, 
that  an  opportunity  presented  itself  of  hearing  a  style  and 
manner  of  preaching  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  calculated  to 
induce  and  prop-el  such  a  movement  as  that  to  which  I  have 
referred.  After  having  attended  the  service  in  the  English 
Chapel  with  comfort  and  edification,  the  bells  of  the  parish 
Church  announced  the  hour  of  vespers.  I  entered  while 
the  congregation  was  assembling,  and  which  consisted,  as 
most  Roman  Catholic  congregations  in  France  do,  chiefly  of 
females  of  the  humbler  classes.  But  few  men  are  ever  found 
among  them ;  which  may  tend  to  prove,  that  however  the 
genius  of  Popery  may  prevail,  yet  that  its  outward  symbols 
have  but  little  charm  for,  or  influence  upon,  the  public  mind. 
The  cafe,  the  promenade,  and  the  other  various  sources  of 
mere  gratification,  seem  to  claim  the  Sunday  hours  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  population. 

After  the  usual  service  of  vespers,  upon  which  I  make  no 
comment,  a  young  ecclesiastic — the  beau  ideal  of  a  French 


ROMISH  PREACHING. 


11 


priest — ascended  the  pulpit,  and  addressed  the  congregation 
with  great  earnestness  on  the  subject  of  the  real  presence  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  the  eucharist.  There  was  a  degree 
of  boldness  and  unrestraint  in  his  manner  of  preaching,  which 
left  my  mind  impressed  with  the  notion  that  it  was  not  just 
on  the  side  of  the  dogmas  of  a  Church  that  he  was  declaim' 
ing,  but  on  matters  which  were  deposited  in  his  mind  with 
all  the  sanctity  of  eternal  truth  about  them  :  and  one  remark¬ 
able  feature  of  his  ministry  was,  that  he  earnestly  appealed 
to  the  judgments  of  his  hearers — a  novel  appeal  to  come  from 
the  lips  of  a  priest  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Let  but  the  peo¬ 
ple  be  invited  and  urged  to  form  a  judgment  for  themselves, 
and  let  the  means  and  opportunities  for  right  judgment  be  set 
before  them  by  the  unhindered  circulation  of  the  pure  and 
unadulterated  word  of  God,  and  the  movement  set  on  foot  in 
France — the  element  of  which  was  contained  in  this  young 
preacher’s  sermon — must,  under  the  Divine  blessing,  lead  on 
to  a  happy  issue  for  the  spiritual  interests  of  the  French  peo¬ 
ple,  and  others  on  whom  their  national  influence  may  be 
exercised. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  record  here  a  circumstance  which  af¬ 
fected  my  mind  very  sensibly.  On  the  evening  of  my  arri¬ 
val  at  Boulogne,  I  had  retired  to  my  room,  and  on  opening 
my  Bible  for  my  evening  portion,  the  first  passage  on  which 
my  eye  rested,  was  Isaiah  lxvi.  13 — “  As  one.  whom  his  mother 
coviforteth ,  so  will  I  comfort  you ;  and  ye  shall  he  comforted  in 
Jerusalem I  am  not  wont  to  use  holy  Scripture  super- 
stitiously,  nor  do  I  think  it  could  justly  be  deemed  super¬ 
stitious,  if  I  regarded  this  passage  as  given  for  my  special 
solace  and  comfort  on  the  very  day  I  commenced  my  journey 
to  the  Holy  Land.  If  there  are  any  who  would  account  me 
superstitious  on  this  score,  I  should  be  much  more  willing  to 
bear  the  imputation  than  forego  the  comfort  which  that  word 
afforded  me. 

From  Boulogne,  our  route  lay  direct  to  Paris.  I  dwell  not 
on  the  objects  of  deep  historical  interest  which  arrested  my 
attention  while  there.  They  are  familiar  to  most  readers 


12 


CAVIGLIA. 


The  genius  of  the  French  mind,  and  the  habitude  of  the 
French  people,  are  both  strikingly  exhibited  in  every  thing 
that  meets  the  eye  in  that  remarkable  capital.  One  thing 
which  afforded  me  great  satisfaction  was  the  opportunity  of 
meeting  the  venerable  Caviglia,  so  celebrated  for  his  twenty 
years’  explorative  residence  in  and  about  the  Pyramids  of 
Egypt.  He  was  then  in  Paris.  We  had  expected  to  find 
him  in  Egypt.  Introduced  by  a  note  from  a  mutual  friend, 
we  visited  him  at  his  residence — a  small  attic,  five  or  six 
floors  upwards,  with  barely  room  for  his  bed,  a  small  table, 
and  a  little  collection  of  books.  He  received  us  with  frank¬ 
ness  and  urbanity.  The  history  of  this  man  is  very  remark¬ 
able  and  instructive.  After  a  long  life,  spent  in  scientific 
pursuits,  and  in  the  search  of  truth  in  her  many  avenues,  or 
rather  in  the  many  avenues  in  which  she  is  commonly 
sought ;  and  after  laboring  in  occult  sciences  and  pushing 
his  enquiries,  as  he  now  believes,  through  the  personal  agen¬ 
cy  of  the  evil  one,  to  their  extreme  point,  God  was  pleased  to 
.and  him  on  the  sure  foundation  of  revealed  truth ;  and 
though  in  communion,  nominally  only  I  hope,  with  the 
Church  of  Rome,  yet  he  seems  to  be  aware  of,  and  disen¬ 
gaged  from,  her  sorceries.  He  is  as  simple  as  a  child,  and 
his  sweet,  benevolent  countenance  beamed  on  us.  He  told  us 
of  the  fact  above  alluded  to,  that  there  is  a  great  movement,  in 
the  way  of  enquiry,  going  on  in  the  Church  of  Rome  in 
France  ;  and  in  this  he  seemed  heartily  to  rejoice,  as  every 
man  would,  who,  like  him,  has  found  his  religion  in  the  Bi¬ 
ble,  apart  from  the  traditions  of  men.  I  shall  not  easily  for¬ 
get  him.  There  sat  the  enlightened,  the  distinguished,  the 
Christian  Caviglia,  in  his  poor  rude  attic,  without  fire,  with¬ 
out  domestics,  and  almost  without  the  usual  conveniences  of 
life,  and  with  but  few  friends.  He  was  within  the  mighty 
heart  of  Paris  ;  but  infinitely  above  all  that  makes  it  throb 
with  ever  changing  emotions.  He  says  his  great  desire  is 
now  to  die  a  little  daily ,  that  he  may  not  have  it  all  to  do  at 
the  last.  He  seems  like  a  man  of  a  better  age  than  this ;  one 
who  has  fed  on  better  hopes  than  the  men  of  this  generation 


FRENCH  DILIGENCE. 


lo 

He  has  lived  so  long  above  the  ordinary  habits  of  the  world* 
that  it  is  now  no  matter  of  self-denial  to  end  his  career  in  an 
attic.  It  seemed  to  afford  him  satisfaction  to  see  my  dear 
fellow-traveller  and  myself — two  English  clergymen  on  our 
way  to  the  Holy  Land  ;  and  when  we  rose  to  take  our  leave, 
he  held  us  by  the  hand,  called  us  his  dear  brethren  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  prayed  God  to  increase  the  number  of 
devoted  followers  of  our  Divine  Master.  There  was  a  touch¬ 
ing  solemnity  in  our  parting.  The  door  closed  upon  us.  I 
felt  that  our  next  meeting  might  be  where  there  will  be  no 
separation. 

I  have  made  this  mention  of  the  venerable  Caviglia,  in 
order  to  put  before  my  readers  a  memorable  instance  of  the 
unsearchable  manner  in  which  our  heavenly  Father  is  some¬ 
times  pleased  to  dispense  his  grace,  and  to  seek  and  find  those 
on  whom  he  intends  his  glory  should  rest. 

Our  route  lay  from  Paris  to  Chalons,  through  Charenton, 
Melun,  Sens,  Joigny,  Auxerre,  Avallon  and  Autun ;  and  the 
whole  of  it  was  dreary  enough.  On  quitting  Paris,  we  ex¬ 
perienced  an  instance  of  merciful  protection  not  to  be  forgot¬ 
ten.  The  huge,  unwieldy  and  overladen  Diligence  was 
driven  by  a  wild,  dashing  and  reckless  fellow ;  and  as  we 
were  turning  a  very  sharp  corner,  with  a  rapid  descent  in  the 
road,  at  full  gallop,  I  felt  the  vast  machine  poising  under  me, 
and  all  but  dashed  down  on  its  side.  The  driver  himself 
looked  back,  pale  with  amazement  at  finding  we  had  escaped. 
Had  it  been  otherwise,  the  consequences  must  have  been  ter¬ 
rible.  The  exit  from  Paris  towards  Lyons  is  in  the  worst 
possible  order  ;  scarcely  two  carriages  can  go  abreast ;  but 
notwithstanding  our  recent  danger  and  escape,  the  driver 
dashed  on  as  before,  and  I  felt  persuaded  that  under  his  mis¬ 
guidance  something  untoward  must  happen.  However,  we 
reached  the  end  of  our  stage  in  safety ;  but  another  and  an¬ 
other,  as  wild  as  he,  assumed  the  reins  throughout  the  jour¬ 
ney,  and  surely  it  was  no  small  cause  of  thanksgiving  that 
we  proceeded  without  mischief.  The  drivers  of  French  Dili¬ 
gences  are  quite  a  people  by  themselves.  Their  endless  talk 

2 


14 


LYONS. 


ings,  shoutings,  and  cracking  of  whips  by  night  as  well  as  bj 
day,  admit  of  no  hope  of  repose  to  the  weary  traveller. 
When  we  were  near  Sanlieu,  suddenly  one  of  the  springs  of 
the  overloaded  carriage  broke,  and  rendered  it  problematical 
whether  we  should  be  able  to  proceed.  A  country  artiste  in 
timber  bungled  together  a  wooden  support  to  the  dilapidated 
spring,  in  the  hope  that  we  might  be  able  to  hold  on  our  way. 
Notwithstanding  our  fracture,  the  heedless  driver  dashed  on 
as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  and  when  we  reached  Autun,  a 
striking  ancient  town,  and  had  made  a  suitable  delay  for 
needful  repairs,  we  proceeded  for  six  hours  more  over  roads 
impracticable  enough  to  try  the  stability  of  any  carriage  less 
substantial  than  a  French  Diligence.  Chalons  was  reached 
at  last. 

Our  route  lay  from  Chalons  to  Lyons,  on  the  Saone,  a 
delightful  sail  of  eight  hours.  The  first  view  of  Lyons  is  far 
more  impressive  than  that  of  Paris  itself.  The  unequal  sur¬ 
face,  and  the  more  distant  parts  of  the  town  occupying  ele¬ 
vated  positions,  give  an  idea  of  extent  and  magnitude  for 
which  I  was  not  quite  prepared,  when  thinking  of  Lyons  as 
the  second  town  in  the  French  territory.  The  view  of  Ly¬ 
ons,  and  of  the  adjacent  country  from  the  observatory,  is  ex 
tensive  and  most  interesting,  and  far  exceeding  in  my  estima 
tion  the  view  of  Paris  and  its  environs  as  obtained  from  the 
top  of  the  triumphal  arch  of  Napoleon.  When  the  eye  had 
traversed  the  far-stretching  ranges  of  human  habitations,  and 
the  busy,  stirring  scenes  of  trade,  commerce,  and  giddy  plea¬ 
sure,  which  seemed  to  lie  at  our  feet ;  and  when  it  sought  for 
still  further  objects  of  interest,  there — in  the  distance,  appeared 
the  snow-capped  “  monarch  of  mountains,”  Mont  Blanc,  with 
Mont  Cenis,  and  the  range  of  the  Alps  towering  away,  with 
bold  and  well  defined  outline,  in  strong  relief  upon  their  clear 
atmospheric  background.  It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  forgot¬ 
ten  :  but  how  difficult  to  present  to  the  mental  eye  of  others, 
by  the  feeble  though  graphic  instrumentality  of  words.  It 
seemed  to  stand  before  me  like  the  beautiful  creations  of  a 
dreamy  hour ;  and  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  after  so  few 


ROMISH  SUPERSTITIONS. 


15 


days  of  absence  from  home,  my  eye  was  resting  on  those  no¬ 
ble  and  far-famed  mountains. 

After  descending  the  observatory,  we  made  a  visit  to  the 
much  celebrated  and  ancient  Church,  near  at  hand,  dedicated 
to  the  Virgin,  in  connexion  with  whose  name  numberless 
miracles  are  said  to  have  been  wrought ;  in  token  of  which, 
the  walls  are  literally  covered  with  pictures  representing  the 
scenes  and  circumstantials  of  the  alleged  miracles — some  of 
them  distressing,  some  ludicrous ;  and  little  models,  in  wax, 
of  diseased  members  of  the  human  body — hands,  arms,  feet, 
eyes,  &c.,  said  to  have  been  healed,  are  suspended  in  innu¬ 
merable  rows.  In  one  corner  of  the  Church  I  observed  a 
wooden  leg  of  the  usual  construction — an  offering  made  by  a 
lame  man,  who  had  no  further  occasion  for  it,  by  reason  of 
the  miraculous  restoration,  I  suppose,  of  the  lost  member,  the 
place  of  which  it  had  supplied.  The  useless  wooden  leg  be¬ 
came  thus  a  pious  and  votive  offering  to  the  Virgin.  The 
mention  of  these  things  may  at  first  excite  a  smile  with  many 
who  see  only  the  absurdity  of  them ;  but  those  who  know 
what  it  is  to  live  under  the  sober  influence  of  a  pure  gospel, 
will  see  more  than  absurdity,  and  lament  with  me  over  these 
sad  proofs  of  a  degrading  credulity,  at  variance  with  that  faith 
which  elevates  the  soul  and  purifies  the  heart.  In  the  imme¬ 
diate  vicinity  of  the  Church  were  numerous  shops  for  the  sale 
of  the  various  toys  of  Popery — rosaries,  crucifixes,  pictures  of 
saints,  martyrs,  &c. ;  and  amongst  these  degrading  matters  of 
commerce,  a  vast  supply  of  wax  models  of  members  of  the 
human  body  was  ready  to  meet  the  intentions  of  every  votive 
offerer.  At  the  principal  entrances  to  most  of  the  parish 
Churches,  there  are  stalls  fixed  for  the  sale  of  the  small  trap¬ 
pings  of  popish  worshippers. 

From  Lyons,  our  course  lay  down  the  lovely  and  pic¬ 
turesque  Rhone  to  Avignon — that  ancient  city,  so  celebrated 
in  the  history  of  the  fate  and  fortunes  of  the  Papacy.  As  the 
Rhone  is  less  visited  by  English  travellers  than  the  Rhine,  I 
dwell  rather  upon  its  rich  and  varied  scenery ;  and  do  not 
hesitate  to  say,  that  it  produced  on  my  mind  more  vivid  im- 


16 


THE  RHONE. 


pressions  than  even  the  Rhine  itself,  or  the  richer  parts  of  the 
Danube  which  I  visited  on  my  return.  The  Rhone  deserves 
far  more  attention  than  it  has  yet  received.  Travellers  are 
frequently  too  ready  to  follow  in  a  beaten  track,  and  perhaps 
often  admire  scenes  of  celebrity  more  because  others  have  ad 
mired  them,  than  on  account  of  any  direct  or  comparative  im 
pressions  which  they  themselves  have  received. 

From  Lyons  to  Avignon  the  scenery  is  for  the  most  part 
progressive  in  boldness  and  picturesque  beauty.  Always 
rapid,  frequently  broad  and  expansive,  the  rich  river-current 
flows  on  majestically.  It  effects  a  junction  with  the  Saone 
at  Lyons.  The  bold  hills  on  the  right,  or  western  bank  of 
the  Rhone,  are  generally  clothed  with  terraces  of  vines  from 
the  margin  of  the  river  to  their  very  summits ;  and  on  some 
of  them  is  produced  the  delicious  Hermitage,  the  Vin  du 
Perryae,  as  well  as  the  Vin  ordinaire  of  the  country.  The 
towns  and  villages  on  both  banks  are  often  bold,  very  bold, 
and  always  interesting  as  pictures,  exhibiting  as  a  prominent 
feature,  the  light  gracefulness  of  the  Italian  style.  White 
convents,  and  religious  houses,  occupying  often  difficult  and 
elevated  positions,  give  great  enrichment  to  the  scene.  True, 
we  have  not  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhone  those  fine  remains 
of  ancient  fortification  which  impart  an  aspect  of  majestic 
grandeur  to  the  heights  on  either  side  the  Rhine ;  but  we 
have  that  which  more  than  compensates — the  noble  range  of 
the  Alps,  with  their  snow-capped  summits  stealing  in  upon 
the  scene  at  various  bends  of  the  river,  giving  massiveness  and 
grandeur  to  the  whole. 

While  in  conversation  with  an  intelligent  Englishman, 
whose  avocations  were  connected  with  the  Rhone  navio-ation, 
I  learnt,  that  among  the  mountain-population  on  either  side 
of  the  river,  an  important  Protestant  movement  was  progress¬ 
ing  ;  that  the  priests  were  fully  aware  of  it,  and  that  many  of 
them  did  not  hesitate  to  confess  that  the  people  were  no  longer 
to  be  driven,  but  must  be  led.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt 
that  the  personal  influence  of  the  Romish  priesthood  in  France 
is  on  the  decline — perhaps  more  than  that,  not  only  in  the 


AVIGNON - NISMES. 


17 


cities  and  towns,  but  in  the  more  secluded  parts  of  the  king¬ 
dom  also.  This  may  he  the  effect  of  several  causes — sepa¬ 
rately  acting,  or  combined ;  such  as  the  natural  unwillingness 
of  unregenerate  man  to  submit  to  spiritual  constraint,  the 
growing  influence  of  a  practical  infidelity,  and  a  spirit  of  in* 
quiry  in  the  minds  of  the  more  thoughtful,  which  leads  them 
to  surmise  the  unscriptural  nature  of  the  spiritual  and  tempo' 
ral  dominancy  of  their  Church.  Dispensations  and  indul* 
gences  are  however  still  sought  for,  and  purchased  at  various 
prices,  according  to  the  wants  and  ability  of  the  purchasers ; 
and  masses  for  the  dead  are  doled  out  at  from  three  francs 
and  upwards. 

The  approach  to  Avignon  was  graced  by  large  numbers 
of  almond  trees  in  blossom,  enlivening  by  their  delicate  and 
florid  tints,  the  groves  of  olive  and  cypress  amidst  which  they 
are  planted ;  and  it  was  charming  to  find  ourselves  at  length 
brief  sojourners  in  the  ancient  city  itself — venerable  in  ap¬ 
pearance — venerable  in  its  associations.  Before  the  sun  had 
begun  to  set,  we  ascended  the  elevation  occupied  by  the  fine 
old  cathedral,  from  whence  we  commanded  the  continuous 
windings  of  the  Rhone,  along  which  we  had  so  recently 
passed,  and  the  rich  hill-country  through  which  it  flows. 

Pursuing  our  course  towards  Nismes,  for  the  sake  of  visit¬ 
ing  its  ancient  Roman  remains,  we  again  embarked  on  the 
Rhone,  amidst  the  charms  of  a  sweet  spring  morning,  while 
the  rays  of  the  early  sun  shed  a  peculiar  lustre  upon  the 
mist-enveloped  city  of  Avignon  and  its  surrounding  hill  and 
valley.  On  reaching  Beaucaire,  we  proceeded  by  land  to 
Nismes.  and  soon  were  engaged  in  exploring  its  interesting 
antiquities ;  in  the  foremost  rank  of  which  is  the  amphithe¬ 
atre,  in  a  state  of  preservation  far  beyond  the  more  celebrated 
ruin  of  that  kind  in  Rome.  Viewed  both  from  within  and 
from  without,  on  its  walls  and  in  its  area,  it  presented  to  the 
mind  a  very  perfect  idea  of  the  nature  of  those  structures,  in 
the  barbarous  use  of  which  the  Romans  so  greatly  delighted. 
This  amphitheatre  still  contains,  entire,  a  great  number  of 
graduated  sittings,  capable,  it  is  said,  when  in  their  perfect 

2* 


18 


GENOA 


state,  of  accommodating  upwards  of  twenty  thousand  persons. 
It  was  delightful  to  view  this  ancient  fabric,  and  to  know  that 
the  purposes  for  which  it  was  erected  had  long  since  passed 
away  ;  that  never  again  would  the  fierce  conflict  and  the 
death-sigh  of  the  gladiator  be  heard  there — no  longer  would 
the  cruel  torture  of  contending  wild  beasts  awaken  a  thrill 
of  bloodthirsty  delight  in  assembled  thousands,  enveloped  in 
the  shades  of  pagan  darkness.  A  vast  moral  change  had 
been  wrought,  and  the  record  of  its  triumph  is  written  by 
time  on  the  crumbling  walls  of  this  scene  of  suffering  and  of 
blood. 

From  Nismes  we  proceeded  by  way  of  Arles  to  Marseilles, 
catching  distant  and  lovely  glimpses  of  the  Mediterranean 
with  its  deep  blue  waters,  on  which  we  hoped  so  soon  to  be 
launched  on  our  way  to  new  scenes  of  interest.  It  was 
with  a  fresh  and  stirring  breeze  that  we  embarked  for  Genoa, 
that  seat  of  ancient  greatness,  so  replete  with  rich  associations. 

We  were  almost  immediately  under  weigh — soon  passed 
out  of  the  harbor,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  upon  the  blue, 
beautiful  and  majestic  waters,  reflecting  the  deep  azure  of  the 
heavens,  and  laughing  in  the  bright  sunlight.  Day  passed 
charmingly;  and  night,  with  her  moonlit  solemnities,  kept  me 
wakeful  on  deck  for  many  an  hour.  When  the  morning 
broke,  we  found  the  shores  of  Italy  on  our  left,  bathed  in  that 
sweet  misty  light  which  enriches  and  mellows  the  landscape 
on  which  it  falls.  We  were  in  the  gulf  of  Genoa,  and  soon 
its  port  became  distinctly  visible.  Genoa,  as  viewed  from 
the  harbor,  is  very  lovely.  It  is  flanked  by  a  chain  of  moun¬ 
tains,  of  bold  and  graceful  outline,  on  the  sides  of  which  the 
venerable  mass  is  built ;  and  far  towards  the  left  are  seen  the 
snowy  summits  of  the  Alps.  The  city  was  radiant  with  light, 
glancing  and  resting  upon  her  towers,  domes,  turrets  and 
marble-fronted  palaces — those  remnants  and  memorials  of  a 
grandeur  and  of  a  glory  which  have  passed  away  forever. 

Having  but  one  day  allotted  to  Genoa,  we  gladly  stepped 
ashore  at  the  very  first  opportunity,  and  soon  filled  our  minds 
with  Italian  associations  by  a  walk  through  the  Strada  Nuova 


CIV1TA-VECCHIA. 


19 


and  Strada  Balbi,  where  palace  after  palace  of  the  most  stately 
and  graceful  kind  presented  itself  for  our  admiration.  Three 
classes  of  objects  occupied  our  attention,  namely,  churches, 
palaces  of  the  Genovese  nobility,  and  views  of  the  city  and  its 
bay  from  elevated  spots.  The  streets  of  Genoa,  are  for  the 
most  part  narrow,  yet  bold  ;  while  the  rich  and  graceful  style 
of  architecture  which  prevails,  renders  every  street  and  alley 
a  fit  subject  for  the  pencil.  And  then  the  moving  and  ever 
changing  crowds  of  population,  in  all  the  varieties  of  national 
costume — women  in  their  delicate  gauze  veils,  or  else  of  richly 
figured  silk — shoals  of  ecclesiastics  of  various  orders — monks, 
friars,  and  sisters  of  charity,  in  the  habits  of  their  several 
grades,  made  me  almost  feel  as  if  what  I  had  often  seen  in 
pictures  was  realized  before  me,  till  at  length  all  seemed 
changed  into  one  vast  picture  again  ;  and  it  will  be  remem¬ 
bered  by  me,  just  as  we  remember  a  picture.  The  Churches 
are  in  general  fine  in  their  way,  and  profuse  in  the  Italian 
style  of  decoration,  to  a  degree  that  becomes  offensive  to  the 
more  chastened  and  Protestant  taste  of  the  English.  While 
examining  one  of  the  Churches,  I  was  much  struck  by  the 
behavior  of  a  poor  feeble  old  man  who  entered  shortly  after 
me.  He  made  his  way  direct  towards  a  small  picture  of  our 
blessed  Lord  on  the  cross,  which  hung  rather  low ;  and  having 
fervently  kissed  the  feet  of  the  Saviour  and  gazed  upwards 
with  an  apparently  deep  devotedness  of  manner,  he  sank 
slowly  down  upon  his  knees  and  seemed  absorbed  at  once 
by  the  inward  exercise  of  his  soul — a  scene  worthy  of  a  better 
form  of  Christianity. 

Altogether,  we  spent  a  very  charming  though  hurried  day 
at  Genoa ;  and  in  the  evening  embarked  for  Leghorn  and 
Civita-vecchia — direct  for  Rome. 

Civita-vecchia  is  a  miserable  little  port,  and  presented  on 
our  arrival  a  scene  of  clamorous  disorder  not  easy  to  be  de¬ 
scribed.  Shoals  of  squalid  and  eager  porters  awaited  our 
setting  foot  on  shore,  with  the  most  intense  anxiety ;  and 
when  our  luggage  was  landed,  each  article  was  seized  by  a 
separate  hand,  while  fierce  contention  raged  for  a  time  bo 


20 


ROME - DOGANA. 


tween  the  successful  and  the  disappointed  members  of  this 
wild  and  ragged  fraternity.  At  length  luggage  and  travellers 
were  safely  conducted  to  the  Dogana,  where  the  former  un¬ 
derwent  the  usual  preliminary  search  on  entering  the  papal 
states.  Most  of  our  packages,  and  especially  a  box  containing 
my  travelling  library,  were  bound  round  with  cords  and 
sealed  with  an  official  seal,  in  order  that  they  might  undergo 
such  a  search  at  Rome  as  should  satisfy  a  jealous  and  sus¬ 
picious  government,  that  nothing  was  imported  tending  to 
affect  the  safety  of  the  u  holy  see.”  After  a  rough  refresh¬ 
ment  at  a  miserable  hotel,  we  set  out  for  Rome — distant  about 
forty-eight  miles  English,  with  a  very  unhappy  equipment, 
which  made  it  necessary  for  us  to  rest  at  Palo  till  midnight, 
or  rather  to  wait ,  for  rest  was  out  of  the  question,  amidst  the 
most  clamorous  set  of  French,  Italian,  Scotch,  and  English,  I 
have  ever  beheld.  Soon  after  midnight  we  resumed  our 
wearisome  journey. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  upon  the  “  eternal  city,”  when  we 
approached  it,  on  the  twenty-third  of  March.  Excessive 
fatigue  benumbed  in  some  degree  the  sensations  with  which, 
under  other  circumstances,  I  should  have  approached  a  spot 
so  deeply  affecting  as  Rome ;  but  yet,  I  could  not  suffer  the 
far-famed  city  to  break  upon  my  view  without  a  retrospective 
glance  at  those  by-gone  days,  along  which  the  broad  current 
of  Roman  story  flowed  on  majestically,  in  contrast  with  the 
more  modern  associations  which  forced  themselves  upon  the 
mind.  Pagan  glory,  robed  in  darkness,  as  the  characteristic 
of  the  former  age ;  and  spiritual  degradation,  hand  in  hand 
with  vast  and  fearful  depravity,  as  the  indication  of  the  latter, 
supplied  the  elements  of  the  moral  picture  on  which  my  mind 
rested,  as  I  drove  within  the  walls  of  the  modern  city,  crossing 
the  lazy  waters  of  the  ancient  Tiber. 

On  reaching  the  city  gates,  we  were  instantly  under  the 
charge  of  a  military  escort — that  sign  of  a  tyrannical  govern¬ 
ment — and  conducted  at  once  to  the  Dogana,  where,  at  that 
early  hour  of  the  morning,  our  passports  were  demanded  and 
our  luggage  all  examined,  with  the  exception  of  my  travel 


ROME - DOGANA. 


21 


*mg  library,  which  had  been  secured  by  the  papal  seal  at 
Civita-vecchia.  This  was  detained,  in  order  that  on  a  future 
day,  however  inconvenient  to  me,  it  might  be  thoroughly 
searched  by  a  proper  officer,  that  I  might  not  with  impunity, 
bring  into  the  papal  territory,  books  included  in  the  Index 
Expurgatorius  of  truth-hating  Rome.  Three  days  after  our 
arrival,  I  attended  at  the  Dogana,  to  be  present  at  the  exami¬ 
nation  of  my  books,  after  several  hours  spent  in  undergoing 
the  various  previous  formalities.  The  system  of  espion¬ 
age  which  prevails  in  the  papal  dominions,  is  disgusting  in 
the  extreme,  and  repulsive  to  an  English  mind.  The  whole 
proceedings,  to  which  I  was  thus  subject,  breathed  the  very 
genius  of  the  inquisition.  I  must,  however,  confess  that  when 
at  last  we  came  into  the  presence  of  the  literary  Censor,  and 
the  box  and  its  contents  were  fairly  exposed  to  his  view,  he 
behaved  with  the  greatest  courtesy  and  consideration  ;  and 
though  the  entire  Scriptures,  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  English, 
together  with  several  books  bearing  reference  to  the  restora¬ 
tion  of  Israel  and  other  subjects  of  Protestant  theology,  came 
under  his  inquisitive  glance — he  read  out  their  titles — ad¬ 
dressed  me  in  good  English,  upon  which  he  rather  seemed 
to  pique  himself,  and  said,  “  If  you  are  satisfied — so  am  I 
and  permitted  me  to  replace  my  little  treasure  of  \acred  litera¬ 
ture  in  the  box,  and  kindly  facilitated  my  movements  in  what 
yet  remained  to  be  done  at  the  Dogana ;  but  I  did  not  escape 
without  paying  a  duty  per  pound  upon  my  books,  P*bles  and 
all.  Alas  for  Rome  ! 

The  “  Holy  Week”  had  commenced  before  we  reached 
Rome  ;  and  so  great  was  the  influx  into  the  city  at  that  time, 
that  we  found  it  a  matter  of  much  difficulty  to  procure  accom¬ 
modation  of  any  kind.  Having  at  length  succeeded,  and 
refreshed  ourselves  after  our  wearisome  journey,  we  pro¬ 
ceeded  at  once  to  the  objects  of  interest  which  claimed  our 
attention.  We  allotted  to  ourselves  six  days  for  our  sojourn 
in  Rome — little  enough  it  must  be  confessed  ;  but  we  were 
anxious  to  press  onwards  to  scenes  of  deeper  interest  still. 
Two  main  objects  lay  before  me — the  one,  was  to  see  all 


22 


rome — st.  peter’s. 


that  could  be  seen  of  Popery  at  head  quarters  ;  the  other 
was  to  contemplate  the  remains  of  Rome  scattered  around 
me,  with  all  their  traces  of  ancient  glory  and  ruined  magnifi¬ 
cence. 

Our  first  excursion  was  from  the  Via  del  Babuino,  over  the 
bridge  of  St.  Angelo,  commanding  the  celebrated  fort  of  that 
name — straight  to  St.  Peter’s.  I  feel  difficulty  in  communi¬ 
cating  to  others  the  first  and  subsequent  impressions  made  on 
my  mind  by  that  celebrated  structure.  On  driving  up  to  the 
grand  area — so  noble  in  its  dimensions,  with  its  cool  gush  of 
graceful  fountains  flinging  up  their  feathery  streams  to  a 
great  height,  and  returning  them  in  rich  dews  upon  the  thirsty 
pavements  ;  and  on  gazing  forwards  to  the  cathedral  itself, 
with  its  dome  and  stately  colonnades  on  either  side,  and  with 
the  splendid  elevation  of  the  Vatican — the  residence  of  the 
assumed  vicegerent  of  Christ  upon  earth,  looking  down  upon 
the  vast  pile  with  which  it  is  connected,  in  silent  majesty, 
and  telling  the  dark  story  of  many  a  departed  day  in  the 
annals  of  the  papacy — there  was  in  my  mind  a  sense  of  dis¬ 
appointment,  which  was  not  by  any  means  diminished  when 
I  set  my  foot  within  the  portico  of  the  temple.  On  analyzing 
the  state  of  my  mind,  I  found  that  the  sense  of  disappoint¬ 
ment  did  not  arise  from  any  cause  really  induced  by  St. 
Peter’s  itself,  but  from  the  actually  unprepared  state  of  the 
mental  perception.  It  is  one  thing  to  see  with  the  natural 
eye  ;  another  to  perceive  with  the  inward  vision  of  the  mind. 
I  saw  St.  Peter’s  at  first  only  with  the  natural  eye  ;  and  it 
appeared  not  indeed  diminutive  or  insignificant,  but  small  in 
proportion  to  the  mental  picture  I  had  conceived  of  it.  During 
my  first  visit  I  was  not  able  to  get  my  mind  fairly  at  work 
upon  the  subject — so  occupied  was  it  by  the  various  things 
which  fixed  my  attention  at  once,  and  in  succession  ;  and 
thus  St.  Peter’s  was  still  an  object  of  disappointment.  It  was 
only  after  the  second  and  third  visit  that  I  *  discovered  the 
cause  of  this ;  when  I  found,  that  as  my  mind  expanded  over 
the  various  details  of  architectural  magnificence — so  the 
grand  whole  expanded  itself  before  my  perception,  till  1 


23 


rome — st.  peter’s. 

became  overpowered  by  the  full  sense  of  vastness.  Every 
mind,  I  am  persuaded,  must  undergo  such  a  process  as  this, 
before  the  full  effect  of  St.  Peter’s  is  realized.  I  began  by  a 
comparative  view  of  things.  I  first  took  one  of  the  nave 
pillars  nearest  to  me  at  the  western  entrance,  and  saw  how 
diminutive  the  tallest  men  appeared  at  its  base.  I  then 
gazed  upwards  to  the  foot  of  a  marble  statue,  which  was  so 
boldly  colossal,  that  when  I  carried  my  eye  upwards  to  its 
full  height,  it  seemed  at  a  point  of  elevation  sufficient  to  be 
the  capital  of  a  main  pillar  of  any  ordinary  structure.  Be* 
yond  the  head  of  the  statue  the  pillar  towered  loftily,  joined 
itself  to  the  vault  of  the  immense  nave,  and  fell  into  junction 
with  a  corresponding  pillar  on  the  other  side,  down  which 
my  eye  travelled  till  it  rested  on  its  base.  I  tried  to  view 
these  two  pillars  in  their  connexion  with  the  arch  of  the  nave 
— separate  from  the  lengthened  colonnade  of  which  they 
were  the  commencement ;  and  having  imbibed  the  distinct 
idea  of  them,  I  suffered  my  mind  to  carry  it  on  to  every 
succeeding  column,  till,  resting  for  a  moment  on  the  high 
altar,  with  its  magnificent  bronze  and  gold  castings,  I  glanced 
onwards  to  the  grand  eastern  termination  ;  and  then  it  was, 
while  thousands  and  thousands  of  devotees  and  others  were 
pacing  the  marble  area  like  pigmies  rather  than  men,  that  1 
was  able  to  compass  the  idea  of  St.  Peter’s  as  a  temple  fitting, 
in  its  magnificence,  the  noblest  of  all  purposes,  though  de¬ 
graded  to  the  uses  of  a  base  and  God-dishonoring  idolatry. 

Of  the  statuary,  with  which  every  part  of  St.  Peter’s 
abounds,  it  is  impossible  to  speak  in  terms  of  adequate  admi¬ 
ration.  It  seems  as  if  marble  breathed  and  became  eloquent, 
as  well  as  graceful  and  majestic,  under  the  hand  of  the  sculp¬ 
tor-magician.  I  could  fill  this  volume  with  details  of  such 
matters  ;  but  I  must  pause,  and  only  mention  one  statue  in 
particular,  now  designated  as  St.  Peter,  but  once  Jupiter.  It 
is  in  bronze  ;  and  the  hand  which  once  wielded  the  thunder¬ 
bolt,  now  grasps  the  key — an  emblem  of  power  not  less  ter¬ 
rible  than  the  other.  It  is  a  fine,  calm,  dignified  statue  ;  and 
the  right  foot  is  actually  worn  by  the  frequent  and  fervent 


24 


rome — st.  peter’s. 


kissing  of  devotees,  to  which  it  has  been  and  is  continually 
subject. 

When  we  reached  St.  Peter’s  on  our  first  visit,  the  vesper 
service  had  begun  ;  and  certainly  the  music,  consisting  of 
human  voices,  without  any  instrumental  accompaniment 
whatever,  was  of  the  richest  kind  ;  but  alas !  the  spirit  of  de¬ 
votion  seemed  not  to  influence  the  hearts  of  the  assembled 
multitudes.  After  the  service  was  concluded,  a  procession 
of  priests  of  various  orders  was  formed,  from  which  certain 
individuals  advanced  and  enacted  the  accustomed  ceremony 
of  washing  the  high  altar  with  wine  and  water ;  next  fol¬ 
lowed  an  exhibition  of  relics,  such  as  the  spear-head,  with 
which  the  side  of  our  adorable  Redeemer  is  said  to  have 
been  pierced  ;  a  fragment  of  the  “  true  cross,”  &c.  ;  and  lastly 
came  processions  of  pilgrims  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
where  popery  prevails — carrying  back  our  associations  to  the 
earlier  ages  of  papal  dominancy.  The  immense  area  of  St. 
Peter’s  was  thronged  with  visitors  (amongst  whom  were 
many  English),  ecclesiastics  of  all  grades  and  orders  in  their 
graceful  and  picturesque  attire,  and  monks  with  their  shaven 
crowns,  and  the  various  habits  of  their  order.  It  was  alto¬ 
gether  a  most  imposing  scene  ;  but  the  great  drawback  upon 
it  all,  was  the  melancholy  feeling,  that  religion — the  religion 
which  saves  souls  and  glorifies  God,  had  no  place  in  this 
splendid  temple  of  a  false  system. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  March,  being  Good  Friday,  we  had 
the  happiness  of  attending  divine  service  at  the  English 
Chapel,  which  is  situated  just  outside  the  Porta  del  Popolo, 
on  the  road  to  Florence.  The  sermon  was  solemn  and  pro¬ 
fitable,  from  Luke  xxiii.  48.  It  was  no  small  privilege  to  be 
permitted  there — in  the  very  strong  hold  of  popery,  to  hear 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  simply  and  faithfully  proclaimed. 
We  occupied  a  few  hours  afterwards  in  exploring  some  of 
the  more  distinguished  churches  in  the  city — splendid  in 
decoration,  as  well  as  in  architecture  ;  as  if  human  wealth 
were  possessed  only  for  one  end — the  giving  lustre  to  the 


ROME - PANTHEON. 


25 


various  appointments  connected  with  a  religion,  such  as  that 
professed  and  taught  by  the  Church  of  Rome. 

Passing  onwards  in  our  peregrinations,  we  reached  the 
Pantheon — the  Pantheon  of  ancient  Rome.  Time  had  been, 
when  perishing  mortals  received  apotheosis  there.  But  things 
are  changed,  yet  scarcely  for  the  better.  The  beautifully 
proportioned  and  graceful  structure  is  now  overrun  with 
popery.  Altars  are  erected  at  every  part  of  the  bold  circle ; 
and  popish  devotees  were  actively  engaged  in  what  they 
deemed  religious  exercises,  before  each.  On  the  steps  of  one 
altar  lay  a  large  crucifix,  with  wax  candles  in  abundance 
burning  on  either  side.  Many  persons  knelt  and  fervently 
kissed  the  feet  of  the  wax  caricature  of  our  adorable  Redeem ^ 
er,  and  at  the  same  time  dropped  a  small  pecuniary  offering 
into  a  little  dish,  placed  for  that  purpose  near  the  object  of 
adoration.  Money  and  devotedness  are  inseparably  connected 
in  the  Church  of  Rome. 

The  next  object  which  fixed  our  attention  was  the  Mons 
Capitolinus — the  site,  and  part  of  the  ancient  structure  of  the 
Capitol,  around  which  memory  congregates  associations  of  the 
most  heart-stirring  kind.  In  front  of  the  Capitol  stands  the 
undoubtedly  ancient  equestrian  bronze  statue  of  Marcus  Au¬ 
relius,  with  other  works  of  art  less  perfect.  It  is  as  fresh  as 
ever,  and  as  nobly  graceful.  From  the  tower  of  the  Capitol 
we  obtained  a  general  view  of  the  chief  remains  of  Rome’s 
greatness,  together  with  the  far-spreading  Campagna,  and  the 
course  of  the  muddy  Tiber.  Directly  under  us,  and  some¬ 
what  to  the  left,  were  the  Mamertine  prisons — those  gloomy 
abodes  of  torture  and  death,  in  whose  sad  shadows  the  great 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  once  lay  captive  and  bound ;  and  near 
them,  rather  more  towards  the  south,  the  remains  of  the  tem¬ 
ple  dedicated  to  Jupiter  Tonans,  consisting  of  three  exquisite¬ 
ly  beautiful  Corinthian  columns  of  marble ;  to  the  right  of 
these  the  portico  of  the  Temple  of  Concord,  and  to  the  left, 
the  richly  sculptured  Arch  of  Septimus  Severus.  And  there, 
too,  lay  the  site  of  the  Forum  Romanuni — all  silent  and  deso¬ 
late  :  no  voice  of  rivetting  eloquence  is  there — save  that  of 

9 


26 


ANCIENT  ROME. 


other  days  which  comes  back  on  the  breeze  of  fitful  remi 
niscence.  Carrying  the  eye  onwards  to  the  left,  and  passing 
the  remains  of  heathen  temples  now  transformed  into  churches, 
and  bearing  about  them  the  trinkets  and  trappings  of  popery 
— the  Colosseum,  that  noble  monument  which  attests  alike 
the  greatness  and  the  littleness  of  Rome,  stands  prominently 
in  the  field  of  vision.  Viewed  by  daylight  from  the  summit 
of  the  Capitol,  or  at  night,  when  the  rich  flood  of  moonbeams 
is  poured  upon  it — the  Colosseum  is  indeed  a  wonderful  ob¬ 
ject  of  interest.  I  contemplated  it  under  both  aspects,  and  the 
impression  will  not  be  easily  obliterated.  Time  was,  when 
the  noble  and  the  graceful,  the  royal  and  the  gifted,  the  vir¬ 
gin  and  the  matron,  the  poet  and  the  philosopher  found  their 
places  on  those  now  crumbling  seats,  capable  of  containing 
their  thousands  upon  thousands  ;  and  gazing  on  the  vast  area 
formed  for  deadly  conflict,  there  sought,  in  the  sad  excitement 
of  the  scene,  for  gratifications  which  the  graceful  and  rational 
pursuits  of  life  had  failed  to  afford.  Popery  has  set  up  her 
symbols  in  that  scene  of  pagan  heartlessness,  only  exchanging 
one  kind  of  darkness  for  another.  Penitential  stations  now 
surround  the  area  ;  a  large  crucifix  occupies  its  centre ;  and 
indulgences  are  granted  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  kisses 
which  it  receives  from  devotees.  In  the  language  of  a  forci- 
ble  writer  on  this  and  other  scenes  of  ancient  and  modern 
Rome,  I  only  add — •“  Erected  by  a  Pagan,  purged  of  its  in¬ 
human  rites  by  a  Priest,  and  propped  in  old  age  by  a  Pope — 
the  Colosseum,  shadows  out  some  faint  emblematical  picture 
of  Rome  itself.  It  was  once  the  stormy  theatre  of  bloody 
deeds — it  is  now  the  peaceful  asylum  of  holy  crosses.  Part 
of  it  still  stands  erect  or  renovated  ;  part  of  it  totters  over 
its  base  ;  but  the  greater  part  of  it  has  vanished.  Eloquent  in 
its  silence,  populous  in  its  solitude,  majestic  in  its  adversity, 
admired  in  its  decay;  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum,  like  the 
remains  of  Rome,  excite  the  curiosity  of  the  antiquary,  the 
ruminations  of  the  moralist,  the  zeal  of  the  Roman  Catholic, 
the  admiration  of  the  architect,  the  sigh  of  the  philanthropist, 


ANCIENT  ROME. 


2i 


the  sneer  of  the  cynic,  the  humiliation  of  the  philosopher,  and 
the  astonishment  of  all.” 

Glancing-  onwards  from  the  Colosseum  to  the  right,  the 
eye  rests  upon  the  arch  of  Constantine,  the  first  Christian 
Emperor  of  Rome — Christian,  alas  ! — whose  way  to  the 
imperial  purple  was  tracked  in  blood.  As  a  work  of  art  it 
is  still  noble ;  as  a  memorial,  still  valuable :  but  in  the  eye 
of  the  true  Christian  it  is  a  blot  on  the  escutcheon  of  the  true 
faith.  Returning  up  the  Via  Sacra,  or  Via  Triumphalis,  we 
find  it  spanned  by  the  Arch  of  Titus,  sculptured  with  the 
story  of  Jerusalem’s  fall  under  the  Roman  arms,  and  with 
the  symbolic  furniture  of  the  temple  in  bold  relief,  restored 
after  a  lapse  of  nearly  eighteen  centuries,  by  a  11  successor  of 
St.  Peter.”  Whatever  may  be  the  feelings  with  which  we 
contemplate  the  Arch  of  Titus  and  its  sculptured  trophies, 
and  -whatever  the  motive  which  led  to  its  erection,  whether 
pride,  vanity,  or  ostentation — yet,  there  it  stands,  a  record  of 
prophecy  fulfilled,  and  of  the  purposes  of  Jehovah  accom¬ 
plished  in  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  the  sacking  of  the 
temple,  and  the  final  dispersion  of  God’s  ancient  people  ;  and 
there  probably  it  will  stand  till  the  city  of  David  shall  again 
put  on  her  glorious  apparel,  and  the  now  scattered  multitudes 
of  Israel  shall  say,  “  Blessed  be  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord.” 

To  the  right  of  the  Arch  of  Titus,  as  seen  from  the  Capitol, 
stands  the  Palatine  Hill,  crowned  with  the  crumbling  remains 
of  those  palaces  in  which  the  Caesars  moved  the  machinery 
of  Rome’s  mighty  and  once  irresistible  empire.  Not  a  trace 
remains  of  any  thing,  but  of  the  perishableness  of  earthly  great¬ 
ness  ;  and  of  this  there  is  abundance.  The  ploughshare 
has  passed  over  those  scenes  in  which  pride  and  luxury  and 
cruelty  held  united  sway  ;  and  now,  rank  overgrowth  and 
squalid  wretchedness  are  left  to  declare  how  the  glory  which 
was  not  after  godliness  has  passed  away  like  a  dream 
If  kings  and  empires  were  disposed  to  learn,  a  rich  volume 
of  instruction  is  to  be  gathered  from  the  Mons  Palatinus, 


28 


ROME - “  HOLY  WEEK.” 

and  the  heart-humbling  history  which  is  embodied  in  the 
very  name. 

I  feel  I  must  not  linger  amidst  these  hoary  remains  of  the 
most  wonderful  empire  of  the  world,  crowding  as  they  do  upon 
the  memory,  and  each  claiming  a  full  and  elaborate  descrip¬ 
tion.  My  business  is  rather  with  that  which  is  now  moving 
and  acting  in  modern  Rome. 

During  the  “  Holy  Week,”  we  availed  ourselves  of  all 
opportunities  for  watching  the  ceremonies  daily  enacted  in 
St.  Peter’s  ;  and  while  marking  the  conduct  of  the  thousands 
who  thronged  the  area,  even  while  the  stated  ceremonies 
were  in  progress,  we  could  but  notice  the  utter  listlessness 
which  pervaded  them.  It  left  an  impression  on  the  mind, 
that  those  who  professed  to  account  them  sacred,  were  never¬ 
theless  entirely  unaffected  by  them.  Mere  lightness  and 
frivolity  seemed  to  pervade  all  ranks,  except  perhaps  a  few 
ascetic  monks,  who  paced  stealthily  along  amidst  crowds 
with  whom  they  had  but  little  sympathy.  On  one  occasion, 
in  the  afternoon  of  Good  Friday,  turning  from  the  general 
assemblage  in  the  nave  of  the  cathedral,  we  followed  a  large 
procession  of  ecclesiastics,  of  various  orders,  headed  by  a 
u  Lord  Cardinal,”  attended  by  his  officers  of  state,  into  the 
northern  side-aisle,  where,  after  having  taken  his  seat  under 
an  enriched  canopy,  he  received  the  public  confessions  of 
those  who  chose  to  make  them.  Hurried — brief — formal 
was  the  process  ;  after  which,  shoals  of  persons,  both  lay  and 
ecclesiastical,  knelt  before  him  in  succession,  and  received 
his  benediction,  which  was  administered  by  a  touch  on  the 
head  with  a  small  gilt  wand,  something  like  a  fishing-rod. 
Shortly  after  this,  the  Pope  entered — not  in  full  state,  though 
abundantly  attended ;  and,  kneeling  at  a  faldstool  before  the 
high  altar,  blessed  the  relics  contained  in  a  vault  constructed 
beneath  it.  This  is  a  custom  of  annual  observance. 

During  the  Saturday  of  the  holy  week,  there  is  a  cessation 
of  ceremonies  at  St.  Peter’s,  and  time  is  allowed  for  fixing 
the  various  decorations,  in  order  to  give  a  stage-like  effect  to 
the  sad  drama  of  the  following  day — the  day  on  which  we 


ROME' 


HOLY  WEEK. 


U 


)> 


2$ 


relebrate  the  resurrection  from  the  dead  of  Him  who  u  was 
delivered  for  our  offences,  and  raised  again  for  our  justifica¬ 
tion.”  Feeling  that  I  ought  to  embrace  every  opportunity 
of  seeing  Popery  in  the  magnificent  form  which  it  assumes 
at  head  quarters,  in  order  that  future  protests  against  it  might 
be  based  upon  actual  experience,  I  resolved  on  being  present 
at  St.  Peter’s  on  Easter-day.  Popery,  as  it  is,  can  be 
thoroughly  understood  only  in  Rome.  We  may  read  of  it 
in  books,  and  become  intimately  enough  acquainted  with  its 
dogmas  and  doctrines  and  discipline.  We  may  trace  its  insidi¬ 
ous  workings  m  our  own  land,  whether  it  go  like  the  serpent, 
or  speak  like  the  dragon  ;  but  as  to  its  power  to  influence 
the  mind,  by  captivating  the  imagination — this  must  be  looked 
for  in  Rome  ! 

As  early  as  nine  o’clock  on  Easter  Sunday,  we  found  the 
church  thronged  by  those  who  were  eagerly  waiting  for  the 
ceremonies  of  the  day  ;  while  the  whole  extent  of  the  area 
was  lined  by  the  papal  guards  in  their  picturesque  Swiss 
attire,  keeping  a  due  space  for  those  who  were  to  take  part 
in  the  proceedings.  All  Rome  was  throbbing  with  life  and 
animation.  Its  week-day  dullness,  and  moping  inactivity 
were  quite  banished.  All  was  glitter  and  glare  and  display. 
Carriages  of  nobles  and  cardinals — the  latter  with  their  splen¬ 
did  gold  and  sumptuous  scarlet  trappings,  thronged  the 
streets,  which  resounded  with  the  clattering  of  wheels  and  the 
cracking  of  whips.  All  notion  of  Sabbath  quiet  and  peace¬ 
fulness  was  at  an  end.  I  thought  of  Christ  and  his  meekness, 
and  asked  within  myself — are  these  the  genuine  followers 
of  such  a  Master  1 — as  my  eye  glanced  upon  nobles,  cardinals, 
and  inferior  ecclesiastics,  monks,  pilgrims,  and  devotees,  all 
pressing  on  together  in  a  current  of  excited  eagerness,  as  if  to 
some  secular  spectacle. 

I  took  my  station  on  the  south  side  of  the  high  altar,  amidst 
one  of  the  largest  assemblies  I  ever  witnessed ;  and  certainly, 
I  must  admit,  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and  striking. 
Perhaps  it  would  not  be  easy  for  the  most  vivid  imagination 
to  conceive  any  thing  more  splendid  and  dazzling  in  its  way 

3* 


30  “HOLY  WEEK” - THE  POPE. 

And  there  was  something,  too,  in  the  season  of  the  year — 
the  blandness  of  the  atmosphere  without,  and  the  brightness 
of  the  light  within,  that  helped  the  mind  and  stimulated  the 
imaginative  faculty.  It  was  at  about  ten  o’clock  that  the 
great  western  doors  of  the  cathedral  were  thrown  wide  open; 
while  the  choir  within  sang  the  introductory  anthem.  By 
and  by,  the  papal  procession  began  to  enter,  advancing  up 
the  middle  of  the  nave,  which  had  been  kept  by  the  pontifical 
guards.  The  procession  was  headed  by  soldiers  in  armor, 
followed  by  a  large  retinue  of  the  civil  officers  of  the  Pope, 
in  costume,  and  a  great  body  of  ecclesiastics,  monks,  friars, 
&c.  in  the  various  habits  of  their  orders.  Then  came  a  rep¬ 
resentative  of  the  Patriarch  of  the  Greek  Church — crowned, 
accompanied  by  several  bishops  of  the  same  church,  and  their 
various  officers  and  attendants ;  and  after  them,  a  very  large 
assemblage  of  bishops  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  in  their  splen¬ 
did  and  gold-embroidered  robes  and  mitres ;  next,  a  great 
number  of  cardinals  in  their  state  attire  of  scarlet  and  purple, 
attended  by  their  train-bearers  and  other  officials.  It  was, 
perhaps,  half  an  hour  before  those  who  formed  the  procession 
had  taken  the  several  places  assigned  for  them.  A  large 
space  behind  the  high  altar,  in  which  stood  the  papal  throne, 
was  carpeted  and  superbly  decorated  with  gorgeous  drapery 
of  crimson  and  gold,  and  set  apart  for  the  distinguished  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  procession,  except  for  the  cardinals,  whose  place 
was  immediately  about  the  high  altar,  so  as  to  be  in  attend¬ 
ance  upon  the  Pope.  As  soon  as  all  were  in  their  places,  a 
loud  flourish  of  trumpets  from  without,  responded  to  by  an¬ 
other  within  the  cathedral,  announced  the  arrival  of  the  Sove¬ 
reign  Pontiff.  Every  eye  was  turned  towards  the  entrance 
on  the  south  side,  where  there  is  a  communication  with  the 
Vatican,  and  soon  was  seen  the  uplifted  golden  cross  of  the 
Pope,  and  next,  himself,  borne  aloft  over  the  heads  of  the 
people  in  his  gilded  chair  of  state,  under  a  rich  canopy,  with 
fans  of  large  dimensions  made  of  peacock’s  feathers,  continu¬ 
ally  waving  from  side  to  side.  He  wore  his  robes  of  state- 
white  silk  and  gold;  and  his  triple  crown.  He  sat  more  like 


THE  POPE. 


31 


an  tmage  than  a  living  man,  with  his  eyes  for  the  most  part 
closed,  and  occasionally  moving  his  hands,  as  if  in  the  act  of 
benediction.  His  person  is  far  from  prepossessing,  however 
the  weight  of  years  upon  his  brow  might  entitle  him  to  be 
called  venerable.  1  should  speak  of  his  countenance  as  being 
n  bad  specimen  of  the  vulgar  Italian.  He  was  soon  seated 
on  his  throne  behind  the  high  altar,  and  received  the  homage 
of  bishops  and  others.  His  triple  crown  was  then  removed 
from  his  royal  brow,  and  forthwith  offered  and  deposited  on 
the  high  altar ;  and  then,  wearing  a  plain  white  skull-cap 
mstead,  he  was  arrayed  no  longer  in  royal,  but  in  priestly 
vestments,  for  the  purpose  of  saying  mass,  according  to  annual 
custom.  During  the  whole  ceremony,  the  Pope,  aged  as  he 
is,  appeared  like  a  hale  and  active  man.  The  scene  was  cer¬ 
tainly  imposing  and  splendid  in  the  extreme;  but  alas,  no 
religious  feeling  could  for  a  moment  be  connected  with  it.  It 
seemed  altogether  a  matter  of  mere  external  display  and  cere¬ 
monious  pomp  ;  and  I  could  not  but  feel  how  gracious  a  lot 
was  mine,  that  I  should  be  a  member  of  a  church  through 
which  both  the  bread  of  life  and  the  water  of  life  are  really 
dispensed  to  the  people.  And,  alas!  I  thought,  if  a  poor 
guilty  and  sin-withered  soul,  craving  for  salvation,  had  entered 
St.  Peter’s  at  that  moment,  he  might  have  been  dazzled  by 
the  church’s  splendor,  so  as  to  have  forgotten  for  a  season  the 
burthen  of  his  sorrows,  but  would  have  departed  without  an 
answer  capable  of  bringing  peace  and  consolation. 

The  Mass  was  complete — the  host  was  elevated — the  idol¬ 
atrous  adoration  of  the  u  bread-god”  was  performed,  and  the 
immense  congregation  began  to  disperse,  in  order — some  to 
witness,  and  others  to  receive,  the  papal  benediction  from  the 
front  balcony  of  St.  Peter’s.  Following  the  crowd,  I  made 
my  way  to  the  grand  area  without ;  and  it  was  an  overpower¬ 
ing  scene,  when  I  beheld  its  vastness  thronged  with  masses 
of  people  waiting  for  the  remaining  ceremony.  I  cannot  say 
that  they  appeared  like  persons  expecting  to  receive  a  spiritual 
benefit,  and  so  far  they  were  right ;  but  yet,  there  they  were, 
alas !  the  vassals  of  a  sovereignty,  which  based  its  magnifi 


32 


PAPAL  BENEDICTION. 


cence  upon  the  ruins  of  spirituality.  The  blue  of  an  Italian 
sky  hung  over  us,  and  the  lustre  of  the  brightest  sunlight 
broke  upon  the  lovely  fountains  that  were  casting  their  misty 
streams  far  and  wide.  The  great  bell  of  St.  Peter’s  and  other 
bells  were  tolling,  military  bands  were  playing,  and  all  were 
at  the  height  of  expectation,  when  at  length,  bells  and  music 
suddenly  ceased,  and  a  dead  silence  pervaded  the  bare-headed 
and  attendant  thousands.  Immediately  the  Pope  presented 
himself  at  the  middle  balcony,  in  his  full  pontifical  robes  and 
triple  crown,  borne  forward  in  his  chair  of  state,  and  gave  the 
accustomed  benediction — signing  it,  as  it  were,  by  the  motion 
of  his  hands.  Some  prostrated  themselves  on  the  pavement, 
while  others  fell  upon  their  knees,  and  a  few  remained  erect, 
as  mere  spectators.  As  soon  as  the  ceremony  was  complete, 
a  volley  of  heavy  cannon  thundered  from  Fort  St.  Angelo; 
again  the  military  bands  burst  forth  with  their  acclamatory 
strains,  and  soon  the  area  was  empty  and  silent,  except  as  it 
was  traversed  by  the  carriage  of  a  lingering  cardinal  or  noble, 
wending  his  way  from  the  splendors  of  the  Vatican.  How 
sweet  and  refreshing  was  the  simple  scriptural  worship  in 
which  we  joined  in  the  afternoon  at  the  English  Protestant 
Chapel :  how  affecting  the  contrast  it  presented  to  all  we 
had  witnessed  in  the  lifeless  formalities  of  popery,  splendid 
and  imposing  as  they  were  to  the  perception  of  the  carnal 
mind. 

It  is  quite  impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  state  of  Rome 
during  the  u  Holy  Week.”  It  is  a  season  which  seems  to 
afford  a  strong  stimulus  to  the  whole  sluggish,  sensual,  and 
listless  population  ;  and  has  power  to  bring  up  from  the 
provinces  great  numbers  of  such  as  delight  in  a  kind  of 
religious  dissipation.  When  the  season  is  past,  the  dull  habi¬ 
tude  of  indolent  indulgence  returns,  and  soon  afterwards  Rome 
is  deserted  by  the  many  who  shrink  from  the  summer  tem¬ 
perature  which  is  approaching,  and  from  the  malaria  which 
breathes  up  from  the  Campagna,  and  carries  disease  and  death 
in  its  course. 

Popery  seems  to  be  a  system  beyond  all  others  adapted  to 


ITALIAN  CHARACTER  AND  HABIT. 


33 


the  tone  of  the  Italian  temperament,  whose  prevailing  charac¬ 
teristic  is  indolence.  The  Church  is  every  thing,  and  it  does 
every  thing.  It  leaves  scarcely  any  thing  .for  man  to  do  for 
himself.  I  believe  the  Italian  mind,  generally  speaking,  in 
its  present  defective  state  of  cultivation,  is  quite  incapable  of 
those  intense  processes  of  thought  and  reflectiveness  which 
the  individual  pursuit  of  spiritual  truth  occasions.  There  is 
a  mental  diligence  and  labor  connected  with  real  Christian 
experience,  such  as  the  Italian  mind  is,  as  yet,  unprepared  to 
exercise.  Hence,  then,  the  unlimited  influence  of  a  system 
which  professes  to  do  for  money,  what  cannot  be  accomplished 
by  any  other  means.  The  sinner  rests  his  responsibility  upon 
the  Church.  The  Church  professes  to  relieve  and  cherish ; 
and  while  drawing  him  to  her  maternal  bosom,  cheats  him  of 
the  “  sincere  milk  of  the  word,”  and  binds  him  with  a  chain 
stronger  than  adamant. 

It  was  on  the  thirtieth  of  March  that  we  bade  farewell  to 
Rome,  en  route  for  Naples.  Quitting  the  city  by  the  Porta 
di  San  Giovanni,  we  had  on  our  right  the  remains  of  the 
Appian  way,  with  its  fragments  of  ancient  Roman  tombs. 
On  the  left  were  the  aqueducts — those  splendid  and  costly 
means  for  supplying  Rome  with  her  overflowing  fullness 
of  fountains,  carrying  with  them  in  their  course  the  proofs 
of  her  greatness  in  design  and  vigor  in  execution.  The 
Campagna,  through  which  we  passed,  was  in  all  other  re¬ 
spects  bare  and  uninteresting.  Our  route  lay  towards  Albano, 
near  to  which  the  Appian  way  is  met  by  the  more  modern 
road.  A  drive  of  between  three  and  four  hours  brought  us 
to  Albano,  from  the  heights  of  which  the  eye  could  range 
over  the  whole  Campagna — bounded  on  one  side  by  the 
Mediterranean,  and  on  the  other  by  the  Apennines.  And 
there  lay  Rome — that  once  u  mighty  heart” — with  her  now 
faint  pulsation  scarcely  telling  of  life ;  for  Roman  animation 
is  not  life — life  crowded  with  generous  motives,  and  noble 
projects  and  elevated  pursuit.  But  yet  it  was  something  thus 
to  look  down  on  Rome,  as  the  scene  of  some  of  the  earth’s 
most  astounding  dramas — as  the  seat  of  apostacy’s  worst  form. 


34 


ALBANO - VELLETRI. 


On  our  right,  as  we  descended  from  the  carriage  and  pro 
ceeded  on  foot  up  the  hills  of  Albano,  we  had  a  tract  of  rich 
agricultural  country,  bounded  by  the  sea,  which,  from  thence 

towards  Terracina.  was  the  scene  of  the  latter  half  of  the 

/ 

Eneid  of  Virgil.  We  were  now  on  classic  ground;  but 
there  was  created  in  our  minds  an  interest  far  beyond  all  that 
associations  merely  classical  could  impart :  we  were  on  the 
very  road  traversed  by  St.  Paul,  when,  after  his  shipwreck, 
he  went  up  to  Rome  by  way  of  Appii  Forum  and  the  Three 
Taverns,*  the  usually  assigned  sites  of  which  places  lay  before 
us.  Although,  in  all  probability,  the  country  has  in  most  of 
its  details  undergone  considerable  change  since  it  was  visited 
by  the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  yet  it  was  deeply  inter¬ 
esting  to  know,  that  its  main  features — the  grand  outlines  of 
mountain,  hill,  valley,  and  ocean,  ub  they  now  exist,  had  been 
gazed  on  by  him. 

On  the  evening  of  our  first  day’s  journey  we  reached 
Velletri,  and  being  anxious  to  proceed  with  all  convenient 
speed,  we  renewed  our  route  after  a  suitable  pause  for  rest 
and  refreshment ;  and  it  was  during  the  night  that  we  crossed 
the  Pontine  marshes,  the  atmosphere  of  which  is  so  injurious 
to  persons  who  are  not  in  robust  health.  Various  and  re¬ 
peated  efforts  have  been  made  for  effectually  draining  these 
marshes,  both  previous  and  subsequent  to  the  Christian  era, 
but  in  vain.  I  was  awakened  from  my  midnight  slumber 
in  the  carriage,  by  the  wearisome  croaking  of  the  frogs, 
which  swarm  in  all  parts.  It  sounded  like  the  heavy  falling 
of  waters  at  a  distance ;  and  had  I  not  heard  it  with  my  own 
ears,  I  should  have  deemed  it  incredible  that  such  a  noise 
could  be  emitted  by  such  creatures.  I  should  think  the  sound, 
in  a  still  night,  might  be  heard  at  the  distance  of  three  or  four 
miles.  The  Pontine  marshes  are  of  wide  extent,  and  are  the 
effect  of  an  anciently  commenced  and  perpetually  continued 
contest  between  the  earth  and  the  bright  waves  of  the  Medi¬ 
terranean  ;  and  notwithstanding  all  the  efforts  from  time  to 
time  made  to  counteract  their  influence,  sc  prejudicial  to 


*  Acts  xxviii.  11-15. 


PONTINE  MARSHES. 


35 


human  life,  still  they  send  forth  a  malaria,  which  is  irresis¬ 
tible  in  its  effects.  I  awoke  with  a  most  distressing  sensation 
of  ffver  and  thirst,  accompanied  by  an  oppressive  fu‘ness 
about  the  brain,  which  was  probably  the  temporary  effect  of 
the  pestiferous  atmosphere.  I  asked  for  water  where  we 
stopped  to  change  horses,  but  none  was  to  be  had  fit  for 
drinking;  and  in  order  to  subdue  in  some  degree  the  craving 
of  thirst,  I  was  glad  to  take  a  draught  of  poor  sour  Italian  wine 
— not  very  palatable  at  the  best,  when  compared  with  the 
bland  and  delicate  productions  of  France. 

It  was  Appius  Claudius  who  first  conceived,  and  who  ac¬ 
tually  executed  the  bold  idea  of  forming  a  solid  road  across 
these  terrible  marshes ;  and  remains  are  still  to  be  seen  of  the 
canals,  bridges,  and  private  ways  which  were  parts  of  the 
bold  undertaking.  During  a  great  part  of  the  period  of  those 
wars  in  which  Rome  was  so  frequently  engaged,  this  territory, 
over  which  so  much  treasure  had  been  expended,  became 
neglected ;  the  consequence  of  which  was,  a  perpetual  succes¬ 
sion  of  inundations  ;  and,  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  before 
the  Christian  era,  extensive  and  costly  reparations  became 
necessary.  After  long  neglect,  Julius  Cassar  conceived  ex¬ 
tensive  projects  for  their  improvement ;  Augustus  followed 
them  up ;  and  Trajan,  in  his  day,  paved  the  main  road,  and 
rebuilt  many  bridges  which  had  fallen  into  decay,  and  sup¬ 
plied  additional  ones.  These  lasted  for  a  time ;  but  it  was 
reserved  for  Pope  Boniface  VIII.  to  make  more  suitable  and 
permanent  improvements  ;  whose  efforts  were  continued  by 
Sixtus  V.  and  Pius  VI.  Still,  notwithstanding  all  attempts, 
the  Pontine  marshes  are  the  region  of  misery  and  the  abode 
of  death.  Ague,  jaundice,  dropsy,  marasmus,  palsy,  mania, 
melancholy,  there  sit  in  watchful  jealousy  over  the  pulsations 
of  human  life. 

It  was  shortly  after  day-break  that  we  reached  Terracina, 
which  is  washed  by  the  blue  waves  of  the  Mediterranean  ; 
and  though  squalid  and  miserable  in  itself,  as  most  provincial 
towns  in  the  papal  states  are,  yet  it  was  a  charming  relief  to 
us,  after  having  encountered  during  the  night  the  horrors  of  the 


36 


TERRACINA. 


Pontine  marshes.  Terracina  was  a  Volscian  town,  and  an¬ 
ciently  named  Anxur,  or  Axur ;  but  the  Greeks  called  it 
Trachina  (i.  e.  steep),  on  account  of  the  bold  white  rocks  by 
which  it  is  flanked ;  and  hence  its  modern  name  Terracina. 
The  ancient  Anxur  was  situated  on  the  rocky  height  over¬ 
looking  the  sea  ;  and  remains  of  it  are  still  visible.  The  Ap- 
pian  way  passed  through  Terracina. 

After  several  hours  delay  for  want  of  horses,  we  resumed 
our  route,  in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  reach  Naples,  some¬ 
time  in  the  evening  or  night,  however  late.  On  arriving, 
however,  at  the  barrier  which  separates  the  Neapolitan  from 
the  Papal  States,  the  lynx-eyed  officer  of  a  jealous  government 
detected  a  deficiency  in  our  passports.  Although  we  took 
the  precaution,  on  leaving  England,  to  have  foreign  office 
passports,  and  though  they  were  properly  signed  by  the 
British  and  Roman  authorities  at  Rome,  they  had  not  re¬ 
ceived  the  signature  of  the  Neapolitan  minister.  This  was 
fatal  to  our  progress,  and  very  vexatious.  No  remedy  sug¬ 
gested  itself,  but  that  of  entrusting  our  passports  to  the  next 
Neapolitan  courier  to  Rome  on  the  following  morning,  which 
involved  the  necessity  of  our  return  to  Terracina,  there  to 
await  the  arrival  of  the  precious  documents.  The  hard¬ 
hearted  official  of  the  Neapolitan  government  had  no  com- 
misera’  on  whatever  with  us  in  our  unhappy  predicament ; 
and  bp  :k  to  Terracina  we  went  with  most  unwilling  steps. 
Havin  ;  entrusted  our  passports  to  a  courier,  we  waited  their 
return  with  all  the  patience  we  could  command — prisoners 
as  we  were  in  the  hands  of  the  papal  authorities.  Oh,  highly 
privil  ged  Britain !  through  whose  length  and  breadth  both 
native  and  foreigner,  with  equal  freedom,  may  make  their 
route  without  the  espionage  of  police,  or  the  hindrance  con¬ 
nected  with  passports.  I  wish  those  who  bellow  about  free¬ 
dom,  in  a  land  of  liberty  like  ours,  could  just  taste  the  reverse 
of  liberty,  as  the  slaves  of  Rome  and  the  serfs  of  some  other 
continental  governments  do.  It  would,  perhaps,  bring  them 
to  a  better  judgment. 

Terracina,  like  all  other  Italian  towns,  swarms  with  beg 


TERRACINA. 


37 


gars  ;  and  troops  of  squalid  and  ragged  children,  trained  to 
that  odious  habit  of  life,  beset  you  at  every  step.  You  hear 
their  small  voices  in  little  more  than  a  half  whisper,  as  if  they 
Aver®  almost  ashamed  of  themselves,  craving  for  the  smallest 
donation  ;  and  in  this  way  they  will  continue  to  pursue  you 
for  several  hundred  yards,  according  as  you  may  seem  to  look 
kindly  on  them  or  otherwise.  The  whole  population  of  the 
papal  states,  so  far  as  I  had  opportunity  of  observing,  ap 
peared  miserably  poor  and  destitute  ;  and  those  at  Terracina 
peculiarly  so.  No  resident  gentry  are  in  the  neighborhood 
to  care  for  the  people,  or  gi\re  a  tone  of  moral  improvement 
to  their  minds.  The  Italian  peasantry  have  but  few  wants, 
and  are  content  with  what  would  be  deemed  destitution  by 
the  extravagant  beer-and-dram-drinking  people  of  England. 
True,  the  necessaries  of  life  are  far  cheaper  in  Italy  than  in 
England ;  but  l  am  persuaded  that  if  an  Italian  peasant  could 
have  the  income  of  an  English  artisan,  he  would  account 
himself  a  wonderfully  rich  man,  and  never  dream  of  hard¬ 
ship  or  discontent.  In  the  neighborhood  of  Terracina,  you 
uoav  and  then  meet  a  fine  intelligent-looking  man,  with  a  rich 
olive  complexion,  black  hair  and  full  black  eyes,  Avrapped  in 
his  floAving  broAvn  mantua,  and  Avearing  the  high-peaked  and 
broad-brimmed  hat.  Though  the  Brigands  are  now  nearly 
extinct,  yet  in  the  costume  Avhich  I  have  just  mentioned,  you 
trace  much  that  induces  you  to  associate  the  idea  of  brigand¬ 
ism  with  any  such  you  meet. 

At  Terracina  I  gathered  oranges  and  lemons  from  the  or¬ 
chards  by  the  Avayside,  giving  a  trifle  of  money  to  the  pro¬ 
prietors  for  permission  to  do  so.  A  single  paul  is  quite  suf¬ 
ficient  to  procure  all  your  pockets  full  of  oranges  and  lemons. 
We  found  a  feAV  palm  trees,  the  first  I  had  ever  seen,  min¬ 
gled  Avith  olive,  orange,  and  lemon  trees.  The  appearance 
of  their  graceful  feathery  foliage  in  the  landscape  is  very  beau¬ 
tiful.  In  our  Avalks  Ave  found  great  numbers  of  lively  green 
lizards,  scampering  upon  the  rocks,  and  shining  and  sparkling 
in  the  sun.  They  are  graceful  creatures,  both  in  their  form 
and  motion.  Buffaloes  are  very  much  used  in  this  country 

4 


38 


TERRACINA - APPIAN  WAY. 


for  the  purpose  of  draught,  and  appear  to  be  very  docile  ;  and 
there  is  also  a  fine  breed  of  noble  long-horned  oxen,  many  of 
which  are  also  employed  in  a  similar  manner. 

Having  time  at  our  disposal  while  delayed  at  Terracina, 
we  availed  ourselves  of  the  opportunity  afforded,  for  examin¬ 
ing  a  part  of  the  Appian  way,  which  runs  through  the  town 
towards  Rome.  We  traced  it  distinctly  in  greater  or  less  de¬ 
grees  of  preservation,  nearly  to  the  point  where  it  was  met  by 
the  present  road  over  the  Pontine  marshes  ;  and  the  greater 
part  of  it  is  as  fresh,  and  in  as  solid  a  state  as  at  any  time  du¬ 
ring  the  existence  of  ancient  Rome.  While  walking  on  this 
memorable  road,  it  was  not  by  any  means  an  effort  of  the 
imagination  to  conceive  that  our  feet  were  actually  pressing 
the  very  stones  on  which  St.  Paul  trod  in  his  way  to  Rome, 
after  having  appealed  to  Caesar ;  for  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  he  journeyed  on  foot,  such  being  then  the  customary 
mode  of  travelling :  and  in  earlier  days  it  was  usual  even  foi 
persons  of  distinction  to  travel  as  pedestrians.  Horace  cer¬ 
tainly  passed  over  this  road  on  foot,  from  Rome  to  Mola  di 
Gaeta.  Alas  !  what  changes  has  Rome  undergone  since  the 
day  on  which  the  Apostle  trod  the  Appian  way.  How  ha? 
gospel  light  become  dim.  How  unlike  is  the  Christianity 
now  professed  there,  to  that  which  had  gained  ground  when 
he  addressed  his  admirable  epistle  “  to  all  that  be  in  Rome, 
beloved  of  God,  called  to  be  saints.”  How  deep  must  have 
been  the  emotion  of  his  energetic  and  heavenly  mind,  when 
toiling  along  the  Appian  way,  not  only  to  make  good  his  ap¬ 
peal  to  Csesar,  but  also  to  visit  the  church  which  divine  grace 
had  planted  in  the  heart  of  pagan  Rome. 

On  the  third  day  our  passports  arrived,  and  we  hailed  the 
prospects  of  emancipation  with  great  delight.  We  were  soon 
on  the  road  to  Fondi,  having  sent  forward  a  messenger  to  pro¬ 
vide  a  carriage  from  thence  to  meet  us  at  the  Neapolitan  bar¬ 
rier.  Our  passports  were  sufficient,  and  we  were  at  once  per¬ 
mitted  to  go  on.  Whether  the  general  mendicity  of  the  peo 
pie,  or  the  mean  rapacity  of  the  Dogana,  be  the  more  disgust 
ing  feature  of  this  most  wretched  place,  I  cannot  quite  det«r 


MOLA - TOMB  OF  CICERO. 


3S 

mine.  The  looks  of  the  professed  mendicants,  and  of  the  of¬ 
ficers  of  the  Dogana,  were  equally  hungry  and  wolfish. 
Having  passed  the  examination  of  baggage,  and  got  free  from 
the  inquisitorial  officials,  we  recommenced  our  route  on  the 
celebrated  pass  to  Itri — the  territory  of  Fra  Diavolo,  the  once 
strong-hold  of  brigandism  ;  and  certainly,  the  very  aspect  of 
the  road,  thronged  by  terrible  associations  of  blood  and  rapine, 
is  such  as  to  inspire  dread  and  alarm,  however  safe  it  may 
have  become  in  later  years.  The  pass  lies  through  moun¬ 
tains,  bare,  bleak,  and  rugged,  which  sometimes  appear  to 
hem  in  the  traveller  on  every  side,  and  to  cut  off  every  ave¬ 
nue  of  escape  from  a  merciless  banditti.  Itri  itself,  the  head 
quarters  of  brigandism  with  its  strong-hold,  occupies  a  bold 
and  commanding  position,  and  presents  an  appearance  as 
wretched  and  degraded  as  Fondi. 

From  Itri  to  Mola  di  Gaeta,  the  route  was  through  the  most 
charming  variety  of  rock  and  valley,  clothed  on  all  sides  with 
fine  bold  plantations  of  olives  and  vines,  interspersed  with 
orange  and  lemon  groves,  enriched  and  heightened  in  their 
tinting  by  the  influence  of  a  tempestuous  sky,  from  which 
ever  and  anon  the  sun  burst  forth  with  amazing  splendor  and 
brilliancy  of  effect.  The  manner  of  cultivating  vines  in 
Italy  is  very  graceful.  They  are  not  trained  in  the  dwarf 
gooseberry-bush  form  of  those  in  France,  but  festooned  from 
tree  to  tree.  Mola  di  Gaeta  is  a  lovely  spot,  bathed  by  the 
waves  of  the  Mediterranean.  At  a  short  distance  from  Mola, 
on  our  right,  we  passed  the  tomb  of  Cicero — the  erection  of 
a  manumitted  slave  who  loved  his  master,  and  cherished  his 
memory,  when  the  artfully  concealed  blow  of  the  cruel  An¬ 
tony  and  the  dissimulating  Augustus  had  laid  him  in  the  dust 
of  death.  It  was  on  this  spot,  while  on  his  way  to  a  villa  in 
the  neighborhood,  that  he  received  the  blow  of  the  assassin. 
And  though  Cicero  was  great  enough  to  fill  Rome  with  him¬ 
self,  yet  no  friend,  in  any  wise  his  equal,  could  be  found, 
either  affectionate  or  daring  enough  to  speak  out  from  the 
marble  of  the  mausoleum,  against  the  atrocity  of  his  u  taking 
off”  Two  lessons  we  learn,  while  standing  at  the  base  of  the 


40 


ST.  AGATHA - CAPUA. 


sepulchral  memorial ;  the  one  is,  the  emptiness  and  dan¬ 
ger  of  the  ambition  which  is  of  this  world  ;  the  other,  the 
fallacy  of  friendships  -which  are  not  cemented  by  the  love  of 
God  in  the  heart.  The  former  laid  bare  his  bosom  to  the 
knife.  The  latter  directed,  and  gave  terrible  energy  to  the 
stroke. 

At  Mola  di  Gaeta  we  were  in  the  midst  of  classic  ground ; 
the  scene  which  the  imaginative  faculties  of  Homer,  Virgil 
and  Horace  peopled  with  a  race  of  heroes,  gods,  and  demi¬ 
gods,  from  whose  vices,  passions,  and  achievements,  the  light 
and  shade  of  the  poetic  page  have  been  supplied.  The 
dreams  of  fancy  remain.  The  classic  soil  still  breathes  of 
other  days  ;  but  the  lyre  of  the  poet  is  now  silent  as  the  dust 
of  the  grave  in  which  his  ashes  repose.  Homer  is  a  name ; 
Virgil — a  name  ;  Horace — a  name ! 

It  was  a  bright  April  morning,  which  shed  lustre  upon 
the  whole  picture,  when  we  quitted  Mola,  on  our  way  to 
Naples.  From  Mola  to  St.  Agatha,  the  route  was  charming, 
having  on  the  left,  the  chain  of  the  Apennines  with  their 
snowy  capes,  and  on  the  right,  the  tideless  Mediterranean, 
presenting  an  aspect  of  sweet  repose.  The  intermediate  land¬ 
scape  on  either  side  is  composed  of  olive  grounds,  vineyards, 
and  corn  fields — a  lovely  scene  of  fertility  and  abundance. 
During  this  part  of  our  journey,  I  observed  for  the  first  time, 
the  abundant  growth  of  aloes  of  an  immense  size,  lining 
the  hedge-rows,  and  spreading  their  broad  bold  leaves  in 
a  majestic  manner,  giving  a  very  peculiar  character  to  the 
landscape. 

From  St.  Agatha  to  Capua,  our  route  lay  through  a  plain, 
richly  cultivated,  and  abounding  in  vineyards  and  corn  fields, 
as  if  the  bounties  of  nature  were  lavished  in  profusion.  Capua 
is  a  fortified  town,  and  a  princedom ;  but  alas,  how  filthy, 
wretched,  and  squalid.  Heartily  glad  were  we,  when  the 
wearisome  repetition  of  police  examination  was  over,  and  we 
were  permitted  to  make  our  way  still  onward  over  the  plain 
of  vineyards  and  fields  which  lies  beyond  Capua. 

It  was  on  the  fourth  of  April  that  -we  entered  Naples, — 


NAPLES. 


41 


a  spot  of  the  earth  so  lovely.,  that  it  has  exhausted  the  power 
of  lyre,  pen,  and  pencil.  What  can  I  say  of  it,  in  a  space  so 
limited  as  that  which  it  must  needs  occupy  in  this  small 
volume  ?  What  need  I  say,  when  every  form  and  variety  of 
expression  has  been  used,  to  convey  an  idea  of  its  surpassing 
beauty  1  Earth,  air,  water,  shy,  cloud,  flower,  foliage,  light, 
shade,  mountain,  rock,  valley,  enriched  with  associations 
classical  and  poetical,  make  up  the  enchanting  picture !  It 
is  difficult  to  determine  which  is  the  most  attractive  point  of 
sight  from  which  this  wonderful  scene  is  to  he  viewed.  If 
we  ascend  to  the  heights  of  the  castle  of  St.  Elmo,  and  gaze 
down  and  around  upon  the  rich  and  varied  panorama :  or  if 
from  that  point  of  the  bay  which  commands  Vesuvius  and 
its  neighboring  campagna,  we  mark  its  own  bold  sweep,  the 
rich  tintings  ot  its  Mediterranean  waters,  and  the  varied 
grades  of  graceful  and  picturesque  architecture — dome,  spire, 
convent,  and  palace  ;  or  still  further,  if  we  wander  round  the 
bold  and  rocky  promontory  of  Posilipo,  with  the  rich  bay, 
and  the  noble  and  admonitory  Vesuvius  on  our  left — all,  all  is 
alike,  admirable  and  charming.  I  have  seen  much  of  nature’s 
grandeur  and  loveliness,  and  much  too  that  is  noble  and 
elevated  in  art ;  but  in  Naples,  I  found  what  I  have  never 
elsewhere  met  with,  in  such  a  state  of  wondrous  and  harmo¬ 
nious  combination. 

It  needs  a  far  more  vigorous  pencil  than  mine  to  sketch 
even  the  outward  portraiture  of  the  people  of  Naples ;  and 
who  shall  adequately  depict  the  interior?  All  that  can  arise 
from  the  influence  of  climate — buoyant  spirits — half-mad¬ 
dened  vivacity — impetuous  passions  ;  all  that  can  result  from 
local  associations — picturesque — fanciful — capricious  ;  and  all 
too  that  can  proceed  from  such  a  civil  government  and  such 
an  ecclesiastical  system — slavery,  poverty,  idleness,  and  moral 
degradation,  are  too  visible  on  the  very  surface  of  the  human 
current,  as  it  ebbs  and  flows  along  the  crowded  avenues  of 
the  restless  city.  The  whole  population  of  Naples  gives  the 
idea  of  immortal  creatures  forced  into  a  delusive  miscalcula¬ 
tion  upon  the  purposes  of  existence  ;  and  who,  contrary  to  all 

4* 


42 


NAPLES - MONTE  FOSJLIFO. 


evidence,  have  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  gratification  is 
the  business  of  life,  and  that  life  and  its  prospects  are  com¬ 
pressible  into  a  day.  It  would  be  difficult  to  associate  the 
idea  of  a  recognised  responsibility  with  the  aspect  of  a  Neapo¬ 
litan  population.  One  would  think  that  the  almost  only  two 
faculties  of  the  mind  which  they  actively  employ  are  the 
imagination  and  the  memory  ;  the  former  heightening  the 
excitements  of  the  present  moment — the  latter  stimulating  the 
causes  of  excitement.  Alas !  they  are  moral  agents,  yet  with¬ 
out  true  freedom  ;  and — nominally  Christian,  yet  without 
Christ.  Their  freedom  is  but  an  evasive  licentiousness. 
Their  Christianity  is  the  pageant  of  a  depraved  and  fallen 
church.  While  my  memory  is  filled  with  glowing  pictures 
of  the  loveliness  of  Naples,  my  heart  sickens  at  the  idea  of 
its  moral  degradation,  which  lies  like  a  deep  alluvion  formed 
by  the  endless  ebb  and  flow  of  human  passions,  corrupt  sys¬ 
tems,  unbridled  carnality  and  godless  destitution.  What 
human  depravity,  under  the  reign  of  paganism  began — it  has 
abundantly  finished  under  the  dominion  of  the  papacy. 
Whatever  may  be  the  material  for  the  regenerative  influence 
of  true  religion  to  work  upon,  in  the  heart  of  the  Neapolitans, 
I  know  not :  but  certainly,  nothing  would  more  fully  prove 
the  omnipotence  of  grace  from  on  high,  than  the  emancipation 
of  such  a  people  from  their  present  debasement,  and  the  up¬ 
lifting  of  them  to  the  true  dignity  of  the  children  of  God.  But 
I  forbear  to  dwell  on  this  subject. 

Having  occupied  a  suitable  time  in  forming  some  idea  of 
the  interior  of  Naples,  we  set  out  for  some  of  its  environs. 
Amongst  the  first  objects  of  interest  was  the  promontory  of 
Posilipo,  and  the  adjacent  localities.  We  commenced  our 
route  by  the  way  leading  towards  Puzzuoli  and  Baite  ;  and 
found  just  on  this  side  of  the  subterranean  road  or  tunnel, 
hewn  in  the  solid  rock  of  Posilipo,  the  structure  usually 
given  in  prints  and  drawings,  as  the  tomb  of  the  Bard  of 
Mantua.  But  on  reading  the  inscription,  and  examining  the 
structure,  we  found  it  was  not  so  ancient ;  that  in  fact,  it  was 
the  monument  of  an  admiring  modem  age,  rather  than  the 


virgil’s  tomb. 


43 


tomb  of  Virgil.  The  tomb,  we  ascertained  to  be  above — on 
the  rock  itself.  Proceeding  along  the  subterranean  road,  we 
met  with  a  young  Cicerone — a  ragged  Neapolitan  elf,  who 
led  us  by  the  delightful  route  over  the  Monte  Posilipo,  amidst 
vineyards  and  orchards  of  fig  trees.  At  every  step,  some  new 
and  lovely  scene  presented  itself — robed  in  that  most  magical 
combination  of  light  and  shade  so  common  in  this  enchanting 
country.  At  length,  after  commanding  one  of  the  most 
superb  views  of  Naples  and  its  magnificent  bay,  we  began  to 
descend  a  little,  and  by  degrees  came  to  a  spot,  which  might 
well  have  been  selected  by  the  Poet  as  the  place  of  repose 
for  his  ashes.  Though  the  silver  cord  shall  be  loosed,  and 
the  golden  bowl  be  broken,  and  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the 
fountain,  and  the  wheel  broken  at  the  cistern  ;  and  though 
the  dust  shall  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  shall 
return  to  God  who  gave  it ;  though  the  grave  shall  be  the 
abode  of  darkness,  forgetfulness,  and  of  loathsome  corruption  ; 
yet  there  is  something  charming  in  the  way  of  anticipation — 
however  unusual  the  object  of  anticipation  may  be — to  lay 
our  bones  in  a  spot  where  the  loveliness  of  nature  is  lavishea 
— as  if  to  gaze  upon  it,  out  from  the  portals  of  the  dark 
chamber,  though  debarred  from  all  connection  with  the  stir 
ring  interests  and  pursuits  of  human  life.  And  thus  the 
imaginative  faculty  of  man  carries  a  vague  idea  of  conscious¬ 
ness  and  perceptiveness  into  the  silence  and  solitude  and  for¬ 
getfulness  of  death.  The  remains  of  the  Poet’s  tomb  are  but 
scanty,  and  consist  of  a  small  chamber  of  about  twelve  feet 
square,  formed  of  rude  stones  on  the  exterior,  and  entered  by 
a  low  arch,  and  lighted  also  by  a  similar  one  on  the  opposite 
side.  Round  the  walls  of  the  interior,  are  niches,  in  which 
have  been  deposited  urns  containing  the  ashes  of  the  dead. 
The  whole  structure  is  of  rough  Roman  masonry,  gracefully 
overhung  by  a  ponderous  spreading  branch  of  the  Ilex,  or 
evergreen  oak — a  chaplet  woven  and  bestowed  by  nature  in 
her  poetic  mood.  The  chaplet  is  as  fresh  and  as  green  as  the 
Poet’s  fame.  The  tomb  itself  moks,  as  it  were,  far  abroad 
upon  the  bay  of  Naples — towards  those  waters  on  which  the 


44 


PUZZUOLI - BAJE. 


eye  of  genius  so  often  rested,  as  if  he  and  they  were  to  grow 
old  together.  The  one  has  passed  away.  The  others  remain 
with  all  the  weight  of  years,  but  yet  with  the  freshness  of 
youth,  upon  them. 

I  was  anxious  to  visit  Puzzuoli — the  u  Puteoli”  at  which 
St.  Paul  arrived,  when,  having  “  fetched  a  compass”  from 
Syracuse  and  come  to  Rhegium,  the  south-western  breeze 
bore  him  onwards  to  the  Italian  shore.*  At  length,  my  eyes 
rested  on  the  honored  spot ;  and,  reviewing  the  course  of  my 
journey  from  Rome — partly  along  the  Appian  way,  I  was 
enabled  to  recall  the  scenes  through  which  the  great  Apostle 
passed ,  pressing  onwards  to  the  “  eternal  city” — a  prisoner 
in  the  hands  of  a  Roman  Centurion — a  fearless  witness  of  the 
“  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.”  Ages  have  rolled  by 
— governments  have  flourished  and  decayed,  and  dynasties 
have  crumbled  ;  yet,  amidst  the  wreck — two  things  have 
remained  permanent ;  the  track  of  the  Apostle’s  journey  in 
the  cause  of  eternal  truth,  and  the  record  of  his  apostleship, 
written  in  pages  of  living  light  by  the  finger  of  the  Spirit  of 
God. 

Puzzuoli  is  now  an  insignificant  town,  as  viewed  at  a  little 
distance.  Its  inhabitants  are  very  generally  occupied  in  fish¬ 
ing.  In  the  immediate  neighborhood  are  the  remains  of  a 
temple  of  Jupiter  Serapis,  many  parts  of  which  are  in  good 
preservation,  and  convey  a  pure  idea  of  its  original  beauty. 
Indeed,  the  remains  of  ancient  Rome,  in  the  immediate  neigh 
borhood,  are  all  deeply  interesting  to  the  antiquary,  the  poet 
and  the  philosopher.  Proceeding  onwards  from  Puzzuoli, 
we  reached  Baise,  the  site  of  so  many  villas  in  the  palmy 
days  of  Rome,  when  luxurious  indulgence  sought  to  vary  and 
multiply  its  transient  delights,  which  drew  from  Horace  the 
sarcastic  remark,  that  the  Romans,  not  content  with  their  own 
inland  territory,  sought  to  grasp  the  possessions  of  the  ocean. 
In  our  way,  we  particularly  noticed  the  remains  of  a  villa  of 
Cicero,  remarkable  for  being  the  spot  in  which  he  composed 
his  “  0,usRstiones  Academicae.”  The  wing  of  genius  had 

*  Acts  xxviii.  11 — 13. 


CARMELITE  MONASTERY. 


45 


been  expanded  there ;  and  now — what  is  left  ?  The  broken 
arch,  the  ruined  wall,  and  the  mere  echo  of  a  name  as  im¬ 
mortal  as  genius  could  make  it.  Not  far  from  this  ruin,  are 
those  of  the  villas  of  Julius  Caesar  and  Nero.  Caesar,  Nero, 
and  their  palaces,  are  alike  dust.  Time’s  wing  has  swept 
away  the  mighty  and  the  cruel  ;  and  a  u  has  been ”  is  all  that 
can  be  said  of  either.  Oh,  what  a  dream  is  human  exist¬ 
ence,  when  viewed  through  the  retrospective  vista  of  long 
past  years. 

The  baths  of  Nero  are  still  remaining ;  and  the  peculiar 
feature  of  them  is,  that  they  are  supplied  with  naturally  boil¬ 
ing  water,  the  product  of  the  volcanic  soil,  lying  at  the  more 
distant  parts  of  long  and  low  passages  bored  in  the  solid  rock. 
So  high  is  the  temperature  of  these  springs,  that  eggs  are 
easily  boiled  by  being  put  into  a  bucket  and  immersed  below 
the  surface.  We  found  the  temperature  far  too  high  to  ad¬ 
mit  of  our  proceeding  to  the  extremity ;  and,  indeed,  the  at¬ 
tendant  at  the  bath  returned  with  eggs  boiled,  and  dripping 
with  perspiration  from  every  pore.  At  Baios,  also,  we  found 
the  lake  Averno,  the  fabled  mouth  of  the  infernal  regions ; 

and  also  the  famous  Sybil’s  cave  of  Cuma.  The  former  is 

%/ 

but  little  calculated  at  present  to  stimulate  the  imaginative 
faculty,  whatever  may  be  said  for  the  latter,  through  which 
we  were  conducted  through  long  subterraneous  passages,  illu¬ 
minated  by  torch-light  ;  and  at  length  were  fairly  borne 
through  water  on  the  backs  of  our  guides  to  the  very  secret 
recess  of  the  Sybil’s  chamber. 

During  our  stay  in  Naples,  we  availed  ourselves  of  an  op¬ 
portunity  of  visiting  the  monastery  of  Carmelites,  situated 
just  below  the  heights  of  the  castle  of  St.  Elmo.  The  monks 
were  at  vespers  when  we  arrived  ;  yet  we  were  readily  ad¬ 
mitted,  and  proceeded  direct  to  the  church,  where  we  found 
some  very  fine  and  effective  specimens  of  fresco  painting  and 
rich  marbles.  The  principal  altar  abounds  in  precious  stones. 
We  afterwards  walked  round  the  cloisters,  in  the  centre  of 
which  is  a  small  square  burial  ground,  with  little  wooden 
crosses  about  a  foot  in  height,  just  serving  to  mark  the  spots  in 


46 


ST.  JANUARIUS - NAPLES - POPERY. 


which  are  deposited  the  ashes  of  men  who  have  worn  out 
their  small  allotment  of  days  in  the  sad  and  withering  inac¬ 
tivity  of  monastic  uselessness.  It  was  a  humbling  picture. 
We  entered  several  cells  which  were  remarkable  more  foi 
their  bad  odor  and  want  of  cleanliness,  than  for  anything 
else.  Their  furniture  was  poor  and  scanty,  and  gave  but  a 
slender  notion  of  comfort  in  any  particular.  In  one  cell  lay 
an  aged  monk  in  bed,  sick  and  helpless.  My  heart  longed  to 
set  before  him  Christ  Jesus  and  him  crucified — apart  from 
the  lumber  of  the  church  of  which  he  was  a  member  ;  and 
it  was  sad  to  be  obliged  to  leave  him  with  the  darkness  of 
death  and  error  about  him.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

We  made  a  point  of  visiting  as  many  as  possible  of  the 
Churches  of  Naples,  in  which,  however,  we  found  nothing 
worthy  of  being  compared  with  those  of  Rome.  At  the  Ca¬ 
thedral — the  patron  saint  of  which  is  St.  Januarius,  (whose 
congealed  blood,  preserved  in  a  phial,  is  said  to  undergo  seve¬ 
ral  annual  miraculous  liquefactions  !)  we  spent  an  hour  agree¬ 
ably,  however  painfully  the  superstitions  of  a  corrupt  church 
acted  upon  the  mind.  The  general  effect  of  the  structure  is 
solemn  and  satisfying  ;  and  the  statue  of  the  patron  saint,  sur¬ 
mounting  the  high  altar,  is  very  effective.  The  chapel  be¬ 
neath  the  altar  is  extremely  curious.  We  were  conducted  to 
it  by  some  of  the  inferior  ecclesiastics,  bearing  lighted  wax 
tapers.  In  it  we  were  shown  the  sarcophagus  in  which  the 
remains  of  the  saint  are  said  to  be  deposited,  as  a  distinguished 
object  of  sacred  veneration  ;  but  the  ecclesiastics  who  attended 
us  appeared  far  more  anxious  to  receive  our  money,  than  to 
magnify  the  sanctity  of  their  patron  saint.  Perhaps  they  were 
wise  enough  to  suppose  that  any  efforts  for  that  purpose  would 
be  sadly  lost  upon  two  heretics,  such  as  they  must  have  deemed 
us  to  be.  They  were  very  thankful  on  the  receipt  of  half  a 
ducat;  indeed  they  seemed  almost  amazed  at  receiving  so  much. 
The  clergy  and  monks  of  all  orders  swarm  about  the  streets, 
and  loiter  in  and  about  the  churches.  Idleness  is  the  order 
of  the  day ;  and  then,  the  too  common  filthiness  of  their  per- 


PURGATORY - POMPEII. 


47 


sons  awakens  disgust  in  all  who  have  been  accustomed  to 
better  things  at  home. 

In  Naples,  the  symbols  of  religion — the  material  objects  of 
superstition  meet  the  traveller  at  every  turn.  We  noticed 
particularly  in  the  evening,  when  the  shops  were  lighted  up, 
that  in  almost  all — I  think  I  might  safely  say,  in  every  one, 
at  the  further  end,  there  is  to  be  seen  either  a  picture  or  small 
statue  of  the  Virgin,  illuminated  by  lamps  or  candles — and 
more  or  less  of  these,  according  to  the  wealth  or  poverty  of 
the  people  who  are  owners  of  them.  And  in  almost  every 
street,  something  like  this  is  also  visible.  It  is  a  common 
thing  also  to  see  fresco  paintings  on  the  walls,  intended  to  re¬ 
present  souls  in  the  flames  of  purgatory,  with  angels  hover¬ 
ing  over  them ;  while  beneath  are  inscriptions  imploring 
money — money ,  for  the  church  to  secure  her  aid  in  the  way  of 
masses ;  and  then  there  is  a  little  box  in  which  the  devout  and 
pious  may  drop  their  contributions  in  aid — not  really  of  souls 
in  purgatory,  but  of  the  cause  of  superstition  and  ecclesiasti¬ 
cal  rapacity.  Though  doubtless  the  great  bulk  of  the  Nea¬ 
politan  populace  are  perfectly  indifferent  to  such  things,  yet 
there  are  some  with  whom  such  disgusting  daubs  and  craving 
solicitations  have  their  weight  and  influence.  The  doctrine 
of  purgatory  and  the  practice  of  masses  for  the  dead,  are 
amongst  the  most  profitable  traffic  of  the  papacy.  It  would 
be  curious,  though  revolting  and  distressing  to  the  Christian 
mind,  to  see  an  accurate  return  of  the  annual  produce  of  im¬ 
postures  such  as  these  in  Roman  Catholic  countries. 

We  could  not  leave  Naples  without  making  a  visit  to 
Mount  Vesuvius  and  Pompeii.  The  route  lies  through  Por- 
tici  and  Torre  del  Greco,  and  is  altogether  destitute  of  pictu¬ 
resque  objects.  The  distance  to  Pompeii  is  about  twelve  En¬ 
glish  miles.  It  was  in  the  year  seventy-nine  of  the  Christian 

era.  that  the  destruction  of  this  celebrated  abode  of  Roman 

> 

vice  and  luxury  was  effected  by  a  terrible  eruption  of  Mount 
Vesuvius.  Evidences,  too  conclusive,  of  the  degraded  state 
of  the  Roman  mind,  are  abundantly  visible  in  the  various  ar¬ 
ticles  discovered  during  the  labor  of  excavation,  which  has 


48 


POMPEII. 


been  progressing  for  many  years.  Some  of  these  stilJ  remain 
in  the  form  of  fresco  paintings  on  the  walls  ;  and  eil.  titudes 
of  other  kinds  are  deposited  in  the  Museo  Borbonico.  Next 
to  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  there  has  never 
perhaps,  been  a  more  signal  and  just  retribution  than  that 
which  overtook  the  luxuriously  debased  and  brutalized  in¬ 
habitants  of  Pompeii.  It  was  when  the  cup  of  iniquity  was 
overflowing  its  brim,  and  daring  licentiousness  was  at  its 
height,  that  the  wrath  of  God  descended  in  the  burning 
streams  of  Vesuvius.  And  the  discoveries  which  have  been 
the  result  of  laborious  excavation,  most  distinctly  show,  not 
only  the  general  habits  and  character  of  the  people,  but  ex¬ 
hibit  them  in  their  very  pursuits  and  occupations,  at  the  mo¬ 
ments  when  the  tempest  of  divine  fury  burst  over  them,  and 
engulphed  their  city  in  rivers  of  liquid  and  scorching  lava. 
The  streets  of  Pompeii  are  still  as  fresh  as  if  they  had  been 
in  use  but  yesterday  ;  the  track  of  chariot  wheels  is  every 
where  to  be  seen  ;  while  on  the  walls,  and  over  the  door¬ 
ways  of  houses  and  shops,  are  to  be  read  inscriptions — no¬ 
tices — advertisements,  and  other  indications  of  activity  and 
enterprise,  of  amusement  and  indulgence,  of  idleness  and  de¬ 
pravity.  The  temples,  amphitheatre,  and  private  residences, 
convey  a  distinct  idea  of  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  Ro¬ 
man  people  eighteen  centuries  ago  ;  while  the  articles  of  do¬ 
mestic  furniture  and  ornament — of  luxury  and  ease,  still  pre¬ 
served  in  the  museum,  show  that,  at  that  distance  of  time, 
human  nature  in  its  tendencies  and  pursuits  was  much  the 
same  as  it  is  now — in  the  nineteenth  century.  What  gives 
so  peculiar  an  interest  to  this  remarkable  scene,  is  the  fact, 
that  instead  of  being  a  Roman  habitation  evacuated  of  its  in¬ 
habitants,  and  left  to  ruin  and  decay,  it  presents,  as  it  were,  a 
petrified  reality  of  men  and  things  as  they  existed  in  their 
day — a  synopsis  of  Rome  in  the  first  century  of  the  Christian 
era.  It  is  like  a  city  of  the  dead,  arousing  itself  to  give  tes¬ 
timony  concerning  the  living  who  have  passed  away,  as  if  they 
had  never  been.  Every  stone  is  admonitory ;  and  every 
marble  utters  a  homily  to  the  men  of  the  present  generation, 


VESUVIUS. 


49 


whose  footsteps  break  the  silence  of  this  scene  of  death  and 
awful  devastation.  Looking  upwards  from  Pompeii  to  Ye 
suvius,  the  picture  is  still  alarming.  The  mountain  yet 
threatens  ;  while  the  indurated  streams  of  lava  which  are  in 
crusted  on  its  sides,  present  a  lasting  memorial  of  terror. 

Preparatory  to  making  the  ascent  of  Vesuvius,  we  pro 
ceeded  from  Pompeii  to  the  little  town  of  Resina,  and  took  up 
our  abode  at  a  rude  Albergo,  from  whence  guides  and  all 
other  needful  matters  are  obtained,  for  visiting  the  terrific 
mountain.  Here  we  procured  a  homely  evening  refreshment, 
with  a  bottle  of  wine  produced  from  the  vineyards  which 
skirt  Y esuvius.  W e  lay  down  for  a  few  hours  of  repose  in  a 
miserable  apartment,  awaiting  the  promised  summons  of  our 
guide,  who  undertook  to  be  in  readiness  at  two  o’clock  in 
the  morning,  with  torches,  in  order  that  we  might  reach  the 
crater  before  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun  should  diminish,  by 
their  admixture,  the  effect  of  the  volcanic  fires.  We  com¬ 
menced  the  ascent  soon  after  the  hour  appointed.  The  morn¬ 
ing  was  very  favorable,  and  not  too  warm.  We  had  resolved 
to  perform  the  whole  expedition  on  foot,  though  both  our 
guide  and  host  strongly  urged  us  to  take  a  supply  of  mules 
as  far  as  animals  could  be  of  service  ;  and  assured  us  that  the 
ascent  would  occupy  three  hours  at  the  least.  For  the  first 
two  hours  the  road  was  not  by  any  means  difficult.  It  is  a 
circuitous  and  gentle  ascent,  though  rough  with  loose  stones 
and  rocky  incrustations  of  lava — rendered  often  inconvenient 
by  the  darkness,  and  the  uncertain  flickering  light  of  the 
torches.  At  the  expiration  of  the  two  first  hours  we  reached 
the  base  of  the  crater,  when  the  real  difficulty  and  labor  of 
the  journey  commenced.  Our  guide  assured  us  that  the 
ascent  to  the  summit  would  not  occupy  more  than  an  hour  if 
we  could  but  keep  ourselves  braced  up  to  the  undertaking. 
This  part  of  the  affair  is  usually  performed  on  foot,  being  im¬ 
practicable  for  mules.  We  made  a  pause  of  a  few  minutes 
for  rest ;  and  then  fairly  gave  ourselves  the  task.  The  ascent 
of  the  crater  is  almost  perpendicular,  over  a  succession  of 
sometimes  loose  and  sometimes  substantial  and  solid  lava. 


50 


VESUVIUS. 


There  is  no  regular  path.  We  were  therefore  obliged  to 
select  our  footing  with  the  greatest  care.  The  labor  of  as¬ 
cending  was  very  great,  and  at  times  almost  discouraging. 
Again  and  again  we  paused  to  take  breath,  while  our  guide 
repeatedly  cried  out  in  English,  u  Come  on — courage — cour¬ 
age  and  at  length,  jaded  and  worn,  at  the  expiration  of 
another  hour,  or  thereabouts,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  brink 
of  the  crater.  Folding  my  cloak  about  me,  I  lay  down  for  a 
few  minutes  upon  the  warm  lava,  and  soon  recovered  myself. 
W e  arose,  and  proceeded ;  and  from  the  mouth  of  the  crater 
into  which  we  were  enabled  to  look  down,  flame  and  smoke 
were  issuing  abundantly,  rendered  more  strikingly  visible  by 
the  dim  twilight  before  sunrise  in  which  we  viewed  it.  The 
scene  which  now  presented  itself  was  awfully  grand,  wild, 
and  savage.  The  whole  surface  about  the  crater  seemed 
ready  at  any  moment  to  burst  forth  with  its  wonted  terror, 
and  was  covered  with  sulphur  and  pumice-stones.  On  one 
side  of  the  edge,  looking  towards  the  remains  of  Pompeii,  our 
guide  began  to  agitate  the  sulphurous  material  with  his  walk¬ 
ing  staff,  which  soon  emitted  sparks,  and  then  Troke  into  a 
vivid  flame.  There  was  a  hideous  and  suspicious  aspect 
about  the  whole,  which  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind  ; 
and  when  I  recollected  the  fearful  devastation  which  this  vol¬ 
cano  had  occasioned  in  other  days,  and  saw  how  the  secret 
work  of  combustion  was  still  actively  proceeding,  I  felt,  to  a 
degree  most  difficult  to  describe — my  dependence  upon  the 
mercy  and  compassion  of  God,  in  whose  hand  alone  is  lodged 
the  power  of  controlling  and  restraining,  as  well  as  of  making 
actively  destructive,  the  terrible  apparatus  by  which  we  were 
surrounded,  and  whose  unfathomed  mysteries  lay  beneath  our 
feet. 

The  sun  rose  magnificently,  and  bathed  in  its  early  light 
the  snow-clad  Apennines,  touching  every  part  also  of  the 
surrounding  landscape,  including  the  city  and  bay  of  Naples, 
and  the  silent  desolation  of  Pompeii.  And  how  terrib  ly  did 
it  exhibit  to  us  the  broad  current  of  lava  which  had  poured 
downwards  to  the  plain  in  which  that  devoted  city  was 


PROCESSION  OF  THE  “HOST.” 


51 


placed.  Perhaps  it  is  not  easy  to  find  a  scene  more  terrific 
in  its  general  character  than  this,  when  coupled  with  a  full 
idea  of  the  extent  of  devastation  connected  with  it,  and  when 


looked  upon  as  likely  at  any  time  to  pour  forth  the  fierce 
streams  of  destruction  on  the  surrounding  and  defenceless 
population.  Having  satisfied  our  curiosity  in  reference  to 
Mount  Vesuvius,  we  commenced  our  descent  by  a  route 
different  from  that  by  which  we  ascended,  and  it  was  not 
without  some  fatigue  and  difficulty  that  we  accomplished  it. 
It  is  very  curious  to  see  the  vineyards  skirting  the  dread 
mountain,  connecting  at  once  the  idea  of  cultivation  and  fer¬ 
tility  with  the  utmost  development  of  aridity  and  desolation. 

The  brief  period  which  we  had  allotted  to  Naples  was  now 
expired ;  and  we  were  anxious  to  be  on  our  way  for  Alexan¬ 
dria  as  soon  as  circumstances  would  admit.  It  was  the  six¬ 
teenth  of  April,  when  a  messenger  announced  that  the  steamer 
on  which  we  depended,  was  in  sight,  in  her  course  from  Ge¬ 
noa  and  Leghorn,  and  would  be  in  port  in  about  an  hour. 
This  was  between  six  and  seven  in  the  morning.  On  the 
arrival  of  the  vessel,  we  learnt  that  she  would  not  resume  her 
course  till  about  noon.  We  had  time  left  for  a  little  further 
examination  of  the  externals  of  Naples.  While  sitting  at  the 
window  of  our  hotel,  after  breakfast,  suddenly  I  saw  the  crowd 
in  the  street  stand  still,  as  if  preparing  for  some  interesting 
scene.  One  put  down  his  bucket,  another  his  water  jars,  a 
third  his  itinerant  merchandize.  The  business  of  Neapolitan 
life  seemed  for  a  moment  to  be  all  checked,  and  the  mass  of 
the  people  were  immediately  on  their  knees  in  the  dust  of  the 
broad  highway.  A  dead  silence  soon  pervaded  the  whole. 
I  guessed  at  once  what  it  was.  A  procession  of  the  “host” 
was  in  sight.  It  was  the  first  and  only  occasion  I  met  with, 
of  seeing  a  ceremony  so  common  as  this  in  Roman  Catholic 
countries.  The  procession  consisted  of  ecclesiastics,  followed 
by  many  of  the  laity,  and  was  passing  along  a  side  street  in 
sight  of  those  who  were  in  the  main  one.  As  soon  as  the 
procession  had  passed,  the  silence  was  broken  j  the  pursuits 
of  daily  life  were  resumed ;  and  men,  women,  and  children 


i 


52 


SICILY - SCYLLA  AND  CHARYBDIS. 


again  jostled  together,  apparently  forgetful  that  any  thing 
deemed  sacred  had  for  a  moment  occupied  their  attention,  or 
suspended  their  activity. 

It  was  about  noon  when  we  embarked  on  board  the  Sca- 
mandre.  We  were  soon  under  weigh,  and  had  for  our  com¬ 
panions  a  motley  group  of  English,  French,  Italians,  and 
Greeks,  with  a  considerable  allowance  of  priests,  a  Franciscan 
monk,  and  four  sisters  of  charity.  The  view  of  Naples  and 
its  superb  bay,  with  the  Isle  of  Capri  on  the  right,  was  in¬ 
describably  beautiful,  as  we  bade  farewell  to  this  spot  of  the 
earth  on  which  so  much  of  nature’s  treasure  has  been  lavished. 
A  few  hours,  and  Naples  had  vanished  in  the  distance.  A 
lovely  moonlight  night  kept  me  on  deck  to  a  late  hour ;  and 
on  the  following  morning,  by  about  eight  o’clock,  the  coast 
of  Sicily  was  in  sight ;  and  at  length  the  eye  rested  on  the 
snowy  peak  of  Mount  Etna.  In  the  foreground,  towards  the 
right,  was  Stromboli,  emitting  smoke  and  a  small  quantity  of 
fire,  though  but  slightly  visible  in  the  light  of  the  early  morn¬ 
ing.  We  made  our  way  at  an  easy  rate  over  a  placid  sea, 
towards  the  straits  of  Messina,  and  soon  were  sailing  between 
Scylla  and  Charybdis,  the  former  of  which  is  a  rock  of  no 
very  large  dimensions,  on  the  coast  of  Italy ;  the  latter  a  sup¬ 
posed  whirlpool  on  the  Sicilian  side  of  the  channel.  Scylla 
and  Charybdis,  according  to  the  fables  of  the  poets,  were  two 
sea  monsters,  whose  dreadful  jaws  were  continually  distended 
to  swallow  unhappy  mariners.  But,  foregoing  any  particular 
reference  to  the  fictions  of  poets,  I  rather  present  the  following 
more  interesting  particulars,  selected  from  the  narrative  of  a 
visit  made  to  this  celebrated  spot  by  the  Abbe  Lazzaro  Spal¬ 
lanzani,  of  Pavia. 

u  I  first  proceeded,”  says  the  Abbe,  “  in  a  small  boat  to 
Scylla.  This  is  a  lofty  rock,  distant  twelve  miles  from  Mes¬ 
sina,  and  rises  almost  perpendicularly  from  the  sea,  on  the 
shore  of  Calabria,  and  beyond  which,  is  the  small  city  of  the 
same  name.  Though  there  was  scarcely  any  wind,  I  began 
to  hear,  two  miles  before  I  came  to  the  rock,  a  murmur  and 
noise,  like  the  confused  barking  of  dogs,  and,  on  a  nearer 


SCYLLA. 


53 


appioach,  readily  discovered  the  cause.  This  rock,  in  its 
lower  parts,  contains  a  number  of  caverns,  one  of  the  largest 
of  which  is  called  by  the  people  there,  Dragara.  The  waves, 
when  in  the  least  agitated,  rushing  into  these  caverns,  break, 
dash,  and  throw  up  frothy  bubbles,  and  thus  occasion  these 
varied  and  multiplied  sounds.  I  then  perceived  with  how 
much  truth  and  resemblance  of  nature  Homer  and  Virgil,  in 
their  personifications  of  Scylla,  had  portrayed  this  scene,  by 
describing  the  monster  they  drew,  as  lurking  in  the  darkness 
of  a  vast  cavern,  surrounded  by  ravenous  barking  mastiffs  and 
wolves.” 

“  Such  is  the  appearance  of  Scylla.  Let  us  now  consider 
the  danger  it  occasions  to  mariners.  Though  the  tide  is 
almost  imperceptible  in  the  open  parts  of  the  Mediterranean^ 
it  is  very  strong  in  the  straits  of  Messina,  in  consequence  of 
the  narrowness  of  the  channel ;  and  is  regulated,  as  in  other 
places,  by.  the  periodical  elevations  and  depressions  of  the 
water.  When  the  flow  or  current  is  accompanied  by  a  wind 
blowing  the  same  way,  vessels  have  nothing  to  fear,  since 
they  either  do  not  enter  the  strait,  both  the  wind  and  the 
stream  opposing  them,  but  cast  anchor  at  the  entrance  ;  or  if 
both  are  favorable,  enter  in  full  sail,  and,  pass  through  with 
such  rapidity,  that  they  seem  to  fly  over  the  water.  But, 
when  the  current  runs  from  south  to  north,  and  the  north 
wind  blows  hard  at  the  same  time,  the  ship  which  expected 
easily  to  pass  the  strait  with  the  wind  in  its  stern,  on  its  enter¬ 
ing  the  channel  is  resisted  by  the  opposite  current,  and  im¬ 
pelled  by  two  forces  in  contrary  directions,  is  at  length  dashed  ' 
on  the  rock  of  Scylla,  or  driven  on  the  neighboring  sands, 
unless  the  pilot  shall  apply  for  the  succor  necessary  for  his 
preservation.  In  order  to  give  assistance,  in  the  case  of  such 
accidents,  twenty-four  of  the  strongest,  boldest  and  most  ex¬ 
perienced  sailors,  well  acquainted  with  the  place,  are  stationed 
night  and  day  along  the  shores  of  Messina,  who,  at  the 
report  of  guns  fired  as  signals  of  distress  from  any  vessel 
hasten  to  its  assistance,  and  tow  it  with  one  of  their  light 
boats.  The  current,  where  it  is  strongest,  does  not  extend 

5* 


54 


CHARYBDIS. 


over  the  whole  strait,  but  winds  through  it  in  intricate  mean 
ders,  with  the  course  of  which  these  men  are  perfectly  ac 
quainted,  and  are  thus  able  to  guide  the  ship  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  to  avoid  it.  Should  the  pilot,  however,  confiding  in 
his  own  skill,  contemn  or  neglect  this  assistance,  however 
great  his  ability  or  experience,  he  would  run  the  most  immi¬ 
nent  risk  of  being  shipwrecked.  In  this  agitation  and  conflict 
of  the  waters  forced  one  way  by  the  current,  and  driven  in  a 
contrary  direction  by  the  wind,  it  is  useless  to  throw  the  line 
to  discover  the  depth  of  the  bottom,  the  violence  of  the 
current  frequently  carrying  the  lead  almost  on  the  surface  of 
the  water.  The  very  strongest  cables  break  like  small  cords. 
Should  two  or  three  anchors  be  thrown  out,  the  bottom  is  so 
rocky  that  they  either  take  no  hold,  or  if  they  should,  are  soon 
loosened  by  the  violence  of  the  waves.  Every  expedient 
afforded  by  the  art  of  navigation,  though  it  might  succeed  in 
saving  a  ship  in  other  parts  of  the  Mediterranean,  or  even  the 
tremendous  ocean,  is  useless  here. 

11  Charybdis  is  situated  within  the  strait,  in  that  part  of  the 
sea  which  lies  between  a  projection  of  the  land  named  Punta 
Secca,  and  another  projection  on  which  stands  the  tower 
Lanterna,  or  the  lighthouse,  a  light  being  placed  at  its  top,  to 
guide  vessels  which  may  enter  the  harbor  by  night.  On 
consulting  the  authors,  who  have  written  on  Charybdis,  we 
find  that  they  all  suppose  it  to  be  a  whirlpool.  The  first  who 
asserted  this  was  Homer,  who  represented  it  as  a  monster, 
which  three  times  a  day  drank  up  the  water,  and  as  often 
vomited  it  forth.” 

u  Charybdis  is  distant  from  the  shore  of  Messina  about 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  and  is  called  by  the  people  of  the 
country,  Calofaro ,  not  from  the  agitation  of  the  waves,  as 
some  have  supposed,  but  from  xtxlo;  (beautiful)  and  c ipaQog  ^a 
tower)  that  is.  the  beautiful  tower,  from  the  ,ighthouse  erected 
near  it,  for  the  guidance  of  vessels.  The  phenomenon  of  the 
Calofaro  is  observable  when  the  current  is  descending  ;  for 
when  the  current  sets  m  from  the  north,  the  pilots  call  it  the 
descending  rema  or  current ;  and  when  it  runs  from  the 


CHARYBDIS. 


55 


south,  the  ascending  rema.  The  current  ascends  or  descends 
at  the  rising  or  setting  of  the  moon,  and  continues  for 
six  hours.  In  the  interval  between  each  ascent  and  descent. 

4 

there  is  a  calm,  which  lasts  at  least  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  not  longer  than  an  hour.  Afterwards,  at  the  rising  or 
setting  of  the  moon,  the  current  enters  from  the  north,  making 
various  angles  of  incidence  with  the  shore,  and  at  length 
reaches  the  Calofaro.  This  delay  sometimes  continues  for 
two  hours.  Sometimes  it  immediately  falls  into  the  Calofaro, 
and  then,  as  experience  has  taught,  it  is  a  certain  token  of 
bad  weather.  When  I  observed  Charybdis  from  the  shore, 
it  appeared  like  a  group  of  tumultuous  waters,  which  as  l 
approached  became  more  extensive  and  more  agitated.  I 
was  carried  to  the  edge,  where  I  stopped  some  time  to  make 
the  requisite  observations,  and  was  then  convinced,  beyond 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  that  what  I  saw  was  by  no  means  a 
vortex  or  whirlpool.  Hydrologists  teach  us,  that  by  a  whirl¬ 
pool  in  a  running  water,  we  are  to  understand  that  circular 
course  which  it  takes  in  certain  circumstances  ;  and  that  this 
course  or  revolution  generates  in  the  middle,  a  hollow  inverted 
cone,  of  a  greater  or  less  depth,  the  internal  sides  of  which 
have  a  spiral  motion.  But  I  perceived  nothing  of  this  kind 
in  the  Calofaro.  Its  revolving  motion  was  circumscribed  to 
a  circle  of,  at  most,  one  hundred  feet  in  diameter ;  within 
which  limits  there  was  no  incurvation  of  any  kind,  nor  ver¬ 
tiginous  motion,  but  an  incessant  undulation  of  agitated 
waters,  which  rose,  fell,  beat  and  dashed  upon  each  other. 
Yet  these  irregular  motions  were  so  far  placid,  that  nothing 
was  to  be  feared  in  passing  over  the  spot,  which  I  did.  I 
could  not,  therefore,  but  conclude,  that  at  that  time  there  was 
no  whirlpool — I  say  at  that  time,  since  the  case  might  be  very 
different  when  the  sea  is  tempestuous.  I  therefore  made 
inquiry  relative  to  this  of  the  pilots,  those  especially,  who, 
from  their  tried  experience,  were  appointed  to  give  assistance 
in  storms  to  foreign  vessels,  and  who  had  frequently  seen 
Charybdis  in  its  greatest  fury.  The  following  is  the  sub¬ 
stance  of  the  answers  they  gave  me.  When  the  wind  anal 


56 


RHEGIUM - SYRACUSE - MALTA. 


the  current  are  contrary  to  each  other,  and  both  in  their 
greatest  violence,  especially  when  the  south  wind  biows,  the 
swelling  and  dashing  of  the  waves  within  the  Calofaro  is 
much  stronger,  more  impetuous,  and  more  extensive.  It 
contains  three  or  four  small  Avhirlpools,  or  more,  according  to 
the  greatness  of  its  extent  or  violence.  If  at  this  time  small 
vessels  are  driven  into  the  Calofaro  by  the  current  or  the 
wind,  they  are  seen  to  wheel  round,  rock  and  plunge  ;  but 
are  never  drawn  down  into  the  vortex.  They  only  sink 
when  filled  with  water  by  the  waves  beating  over  them. 
When  vessels  of  a  larger  size  are  forced  into  it,  whatever 
wind  they  have,  they  cannot  extricate  themselves  ;  then  sails 
are  useless,  and  after  having  been  for  some  time  tossed  about 
by  the  waves,  if  they  are  not  assisted  by  the  pilots  of  the 
country,  who  know  how  to  bring  them  out  of  the  force  of 
the  current,  they  are  furiously  driven  upon  the  neighboring 
shore  of  the  Lanterna,  where  they  are  helplessly  wrecked.”* 
This  then  may  serve  to  give  some  idea  of  Scylla  and 
Chary  bdis. 

It  was  night  when  we  neared  Rhegium  and  Syracuse— 
spots  on  which  I  would  fain  have  gazed,  as  connected  with 
the  journey  of  St.  Paul  towards  Rome  ;f  but  there  was  no 
help  for  our  being  obliged  thus  to  pass  them  in  darkness. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  of  the  eighteenth  of  April, 
when  we  were  awakened  with  the  announcement  that  Malta 
was  in  sight ;  and  by  nine  o’clock  we  were  safely  in  harbor, 
in  the  midst  of  British  vessels,  amongst  which  was  the  splen¬ 
did  new  man  of  Avar,  “  The  Glueen.”  The  first  view  of 
Malta  is  picturesque  enough,  and  bears  much  of  an  Italian 
aspect.  It  is  altogether  destitute  of  foliage,  and  gives  an  idea 
of  distressing  exposure  to  the  sun.  After  obtaining  pratique, 
or  permission  to  land,  from  the  quarantine  authorities,  Ave 
rowed  ashore,  and  transferred  our  baggage  to  the  vessel, 
intended  to  convey  us  to  Syra,  which  Avas  appointed  to  sail 

*  Spallanzani’s  Travels  in  the  Two  Sicilies:  Vol.  4.  p.  168.  Nich.  Jour. 
II.  12. 

t  Acts  xxviii.  12,  13. 


SEA-STORM. 


57 


at  about  one  o’clock.  But  little  time  therefore  was  al  owed 
us  for  getting  a  glance  at  Malta,  which  is  quite  a  cosmopolite 
city,  wherein  people  of  all  climes  and  kindred  meet  you 
at  every  turn.  The  cathedral  is  accounted  a  fine  structure, 
but  we  had  not  time  to  examine  it,  nor  the  small  church  de¬ 
dicated  to  St.  Paul,  said  to  be  placed  on  the  spot  where  he 
shook  off  the  viper  into  the  fire  without  injury,*  after  his 
shipwreck. 

Soon  after  one  o’clock,  on  the  eighteenth  of  April,  we  em¬ 
barked  on  board  “  The  Dante,”  an  ill-appointed  and  filthy 
French  steamer  :  but  there  was  no  alternative,  and  we  were 
obliged  to  submit.  I  could  not  help  calling  it  u  Dante’s  In¬ 
ferno We  had  on  board  a  small  party  of  Oxonians,  bound 
for  the  shores  of  Greece ;  and  besides  these,  an  admixture  of 
French,  Romans,  Greeks,  and  Turks.  When  we  had  been 
under  weigh  about  four  hours,  the  machinery  was  sadly  out 
of  order  ;  and  it  was  feared  that  we  should  be  obliged  to  put 
back.  The  French  are  execrable  engineers  ;  and  never  have 
I  seen  engines  in  such  a  condition  as  these  were.  The  mis¬ 
chief  was  remedied  in  some  degree — yet  not  so  as  to  give  me 
the  least  confidence  of  safety.  We  made  way,  however, 
without  any  further  cause  for  alarm,  though  during  the  night 
the  wind  was  rather  boisterous.  The  next  morning  broke 
with  indications  of  rough  weather,  which  increased  upon  us  ; 
and  at  length  I  was  familiarized  with  the  terrors  of  the  sea. 
I  here  transcribe  from  my  journal,  what  I  penned  down  at 
the  time — after  one  of  the  most  perilous  and  trying  accidents 
of  my  life.  I  desire  to  retain,  and  to  convey  to  others,  the 
exact  impressions  which  it  made  upon  me. 

u  April  twenty-first.  I  sit  down  to  my  journal  this  morn¬ 
ing  with  a  heart  filled  with  gratitude  to  Almighty  God  for 
special  mercies  received,  in  a  scene  of  awful  peril.  Oh  !  that 
I  may  remember  his  wondrous  loving-kindness  and  forbear¬ 
ance,  to  the  latest  day  of  my  existence !  I  feel  at  this  mo¬ 
ment  that  I  have  been  snatched  by  an  almighty  hand — when 
human  strength  could  not  help  me — from  the  jaws  of  death. 

*  Acts  xxviii.  1 — 6. 


58 


SEA-STORM. 


I  have  had  abundant  proof  that  God  is  a  prayer-hearing-  and 
prayer-answering  God  ;  and  that  even  ‘  the  winds  and  the  sea 
obey  Him.’  The  night  of  Tuesday,  the  nineteenth  instant, 
was  rough  and  gusty  ;  but  yet  there  was  nothing  aoout  it  to 
occasion  the  least  immediate  anxiety.  I  went  to  my  cabin  and 
slept  soundly.  The  morning  dawned  with  a  threatening  aspect  ; 
and  soon  after  breakfast  the  storm,  which  had  been  stirring  du¬ 
ring  the  night,  gained  head  and  broke  upon  us.  Its  violence 
increased  every  hour,  until  it  became  terrific.  Our  little  bark 
was  but  like  a  shell  upon  the  whelming  waters.  Sometimes 
we  were  well-nigh  buried  in  the  ocean  depths  on  one  side, 
while  their  surges  broke  over  us ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  we 
must  be  engulphed  by  the  suction  of  the  angry  billows. 
Then  we  were  tossed  up  and  down,  till  the  vessel  appeared 
almost  as  if  standing  on  its  head  and  stern  alternately.  I 
had  often  heard  of  seas  running  ‘mountains  high  but  I  had 
never  witnessed  anything  like  the  scene  which  now  sur¬ 
rounded  me.  For  twenty  hours,  that  is,  from  nine  o’clock 
yesterday  morning  till  five  this  morning,  I  watched  the  fear¬ 
ful  storm  ;  and  during  the  anxious  hours  of  the  long  night, 
I  remained  for  the  most  part  on  deck,  watching  almost  every 
wave  as  it  swelled  and  glistened  in  the  subdued  and  fitful 
moonbeams  of  the  midnight.  It  was  a  trying  time.  All  the 
other  passengers  but  one,  shut  themselves  into  their  berths  ; 
and  he  who  remained  on  deck,  lay  along  on  the  bare  planks, 
and  buried  his  head  in  his  cloak.  I  held  as  fast  as  possible 
by  the  small  rigging  near  the  pilot’s  wheel ;  but  twice  I  was 
dashed  upon  the  deck,  while  the  sea  broke  over  and  drenched 
me  to  the  skin.  How  slowly — how  drearily  the  long,  long, 
hours  lingered  by.  I  thought  of  home — of  my  dear  family 
— my  beloved  flock,  and  every  familiar  scene  of  home — and 
of  home  pursuits  and  occupations.  1  summoned  them,  as  it 
were,  into  my  presence.  Imagination  was  painfully  busy. 
I  seemed  to  hold  communion  with  those  I  loved,  and  who 
loved  me — and  who  little  thought  of  the  perils  by  which  I 
was  surrounded.  They,  I  hoped,  were  in  comfort  and  safety, 
and  had  borne  me  on  their  hearts  at  the  throne  of  grace, 


SEA  STORM. 


59 


before  retiring  to  their  midnight  rest.  I  was  alone — as  it 
seemed — in  the  drear  hour  of  darkness — on  the  wide  ocean, 
in  a  frail  bark,  with  sailors  in  whom  I  had  no  confidence ; 
and  perhaps,  I  felt  the  end  of  all  earthly  things  was  at  hand 
with  me.  On  anatyzing  my  feelings — I  cannot  exactly  sa^ 
that  it  was  fear,  but  it  certainly  was  apprehension,  which  a 
length  gained  such  full  mastery  over  my  mind — filling  i 
with  terrible  imagery — as  to  bind  me  to  its  will,  and  keep 
me  nervously  and  sensitively  awake,  while  grasping  the  rope 
nearest  at  hand  to  prevent  my  being  washed  overboard  by  the 
surges.  Now  and  then,  I  crawled  down  the  cabin  stairs,  and 
by  the  light  of  a  solitary  lamp  drew  comfort  from  the  pre¬ 
cious  pages  of  God’s  holy  word.  A  dear  friend,  writing  to  me 
just  before  I  quitted  home,  had  expressed  a  hope  that  I  might 
realize  the  comfort  set  forth  in  the  ninety-first  Psalm.  I 
turned  to  the  golden  passage  ;  and  never  before  did  I  feel  as 
I  then  felt,  its  force  and  power.  It  seemed  as  though  penned 
for  me  alone  ;  and  as  if  divine  mercy  and  love  were  speak¬ 
ing  to  me  in  it.  Turning  over  my  Bible,  at  another  time, 
my  eye  rested  on  Lamentations  iii.  22 — 26  : — 1  It  is  of  the 
Lord’s  mercies  that  we  are  not  consumed,  because  his  com¬ 
passions  fail  not.  They  are  new  every  morning:  great 
is  thy  faithfulness.  The  Lord  is  my  portion,  saith  my  soul; 
therefore  will  I  hope  in  him.  The  Lord  is  good  unto  them 
that  wait  for  him,  to  the  soul  that  seeketh  him.  It  is  good 
that  a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salva¬ 
tion  of  the  Lord.’  From  these  portions  of  scripture,  my  mind 
derived  the  sweetest  serenity,  peace,  and  assurance.  My 
soul  was  lifted  up  to  God  in  hearty  and  confiding  prayer  ; 
and  though  death  seemed  still,  to  be  spreading  his  dark  pin¬ 
ions  over  me,  yet,  ere  long,  all  apprehension  passed  away — 
even  while  the  storm  continued  to  rage  wildly  and  horribly. 

I  stood  calmly  awaiting  the  issue.  Self-dependence,  and  self 
confidence,  I  had  none.  All  was  sought  and  found  in  God 
— my  covenant-keeping  God.  Such  a  process  as  my  mind 
and  heart  underwent,  accompanied  by  such  a  result,  amply 
compensated  all  the  trial  I  endured.  I  certainly  had  all 


60 


SEA-STORM. 


along  expected  that  the  frail  and  crazy  engines,  or  some  part 
of  the  cracking  and  groaning  vessel,  must  give  way  under 
the  violence  and  heaviness  of  the  sea.  At  length  the  moon 
struggled  forth,  and  gave  a  partial  illumination  to  the  scene  : 
but  it  only  served  to  exhibit  more  awfully  the  stupendous 
magnitude  of  the  waves  which  were  singing  and  howling 
and  hissing  malignantly  around  us — while,  by  the  r-apid  ac 
tion  of  the  vessel  from  side  to  side,  the  moon  itself  seemed  to 
plunge  and  dart  from  side  to  side  of  the  firmament,  overhung 
with  dark  and  threatening  clouds.  In  the  midst  of  all  that 
was  terrible,  I  was  struck  by  the  beautiful  exhibition  of  phos¬ 
phoric  light  which  played  upon  the  waves  as  they  were  met 
by  the  paddles  of  the  vessel.  Sheets  of  light  blue  flame  of 
great  magnitude  sometimes  shot  forth,  and  were  so  bright 
that  I  could  have  read  by  them  with  ease,  had  they  been 
steadily  prolonged.  Then  the  course  of  our  vessel  was 
tracked  by  innumerable  spangles  of  the  same  phosphoric 
glare.  Silence  prevailed.  Not  a  voice,  even  of  the  shipmen, 
was  heard  ;  and  the  pilot  fixed  at  his  post,  plied  his  arduous 
task.  At  five  o’clock  this  morning  the  day  dawned,  and  the 
change  of  scene  brought  with  it  a  considerable  diminution  of 
sea  and  wind  ;  and  soon  every  indication  of  safety  was  mer¬ 
cifully  afforded.  Greatly  worn  and  excited  by  the  terrors  of 
the  preceding  day  and  night,  I  went  down  to  my  berth,  flung 
myself  on  my  bed  ;  and  though  the  vessel  was  still  rocking 
and  pitching,  yet  I  fell  instantly  into  a  sound  sleep  for  an 
hour  or  two.  I  awoke  refreshed  and  with  my  heart  filled 
with  unutterable  gratitude  to  my  heavenly  Father  for  mercies 
so  great  and  eminent.  Oh  !  that  my  future  days  may  be  con¬ 
secrated  entirely  to  his  service. 

At  about  ten  o’clock  we  descried  land  on  our  left.  We 
had  been,  like  St.  Paul,  u  driven  up  and  down  in  Adria 
and  instead  of  being  amidst  the  islands  of  the  Archipelago,  of 
which  Syra,  the  immediate  point  of  destination,  is  one,  we 
found  ourselves  far  up  in  the  Adriatic,  but  bearing  down  in 


*  Acts  xxvii.  27. 


ZANTE - MELITA. 


61 


a  south-easterly  direction.  The  land  on  our  left  proved  to  he 
Zante. 

Turning  to  the  narrative  .!>f  St.  Paul’s  shipwreck,  and  con¬ 
sulting  the  chart  carefully,  i:  became  a  deeply  interesting  fact 
to  my  mind,  that  almost  on  the  very  spot,  as  it  were,  in  which 
St.  Paul  encountered  the  like  peril,  we  had  experienced  tha 
special  mercies  of  God.  As  to  the  particular  locality,  it  may 
be  remarked,  that  the  only  observable  difference  is  this — the 
Apostle  was  in  his  way  towards  Malta — we,  en  route  from  it : 
but  both  were  “  driven  up  and  down  in  Adria.”  That  the 
island  of  Malta  was  the  actual  scene  of  the  Apostle’s  ship¬ 
wreck,  I  have  but  little  doubt,  though  some,  with  apparent 
reason,  have  questioned  the  fact.  It  may  be  interesting  to 
my  readers  to  see  a  brief  view  of  the  argument  on  both  sides 
of  the  question. 

La  Trobe,  in  his  Scriptural  Illustrations ,  says — ”  There  is 
some  difficulty  in  identifying  this  island.  The  name  and 
general  suitableness  of  the  situation,  however,  seem  to  verify 
the  concurrent  testimony  of  centuries,  that  Malta ,  in  the  Me¬ 
diterranean,  answers  to  the  Melita  of  the  Scriptures.  This, 
however,  is  not  universally  conceded.  It  has  been  suggested 
on  high  authority,  that  a  small  island  in  the  Adriatic  sea,  on 
the  Illyrian  coast,  now  called  Meleda ,  was  the  Melita  of  the 
Acts.  The  most  plausible  arguments  in  behalf  of  this  opinion 
are  derived  from  its  situation  being  decidedly  in  the  Adriatic, 
which  cannot  properly  be  said  of  Malta,  from  its  exact  posi¬ 
tion  in  reference  to  a  storm  from  the  S.  E.,  the  island  lying 
N.  W.  by  N.  of  the  S.  W.  promontory  of  Crete — from  the 
wildness  of  the  island,  and  the  barbarous  character  of  its  in¬ 
habitants — and  from  the  low,  damp,  marshy  nature  of  the 
country,  favorable  for  reptiles  and  fevers.  On  the  other  side 
it  is  argued,  that  tradition — a  good  witness  in  matters  of  fact 
— has  ever  assigned  the  locality  to  Malta — that  the  winds 
S.  E.,E.  S.  E.  and  E.  were  equally  calculated  to  drive  a  ship 
to  Malta  in  a  direct  course  from  Crete — that  had  the  vessel 
taken  the  course  of  Meleda,  there  had  been  no  danger  of  fall¬ 
ing  upon  the  syrtis — that  it  does  not  appear  that  the  Romans 

6 


62 


MELITA - MALTA. 


had  ever  such  an  establishment  in  Meleda  as  to  require  the 
residence  of  a  pro-Praetor — that  it  is  not  probable  that  a  ship  of 
Alexandria  would  choose  such  an  island  to  winter  in,  which 
implies  the  arrival  before  the  stormy  season — that  in  the 
event  of  a  ship  making  the  western  course  of  Italy  from  Me 
leda,  there  would  have  been  no  need  to  touch  at  Syracuse  be 
fore  it  could  arrive  at  Rhegium.” 

Mr.  Bryant,  Dr.  Hales,  and  others,  have  strenuously  en¬ 
deavored  to  show  that  the  Melita  of  the  Acts  was  in  the  Adri¬ 
atic  sea,  on  the  coast  of  Illyricum.  Dr.  Hales  thus  states  his 
argument : — That  this  island  was  Meleda  near  the  Illyrian 
coast,  not  Malta  on  the  southern  coast  of  Italy,  may  appear 
from  the  following  considerations.  1.  It  lies  confessedly  in 
the  Adriatic  sea,  but  Malta  a  considerable  distance  from  it. 
2.  It  lies  nearer  the  mouth  of  the  Adriatic  than  any  othe) 
island  of  that  sea  ;  and  would,  of  course,  be  more  likely  to 
receive  the  wreck  of  any  vessel  driven  by  tempests  towards 
that  quarter.  And  it  lies  north-west  by  north,  of  the  south¬ 
west  promontory  of  Crete  ;  and  came  nearly  in  the  direction 
of  a  storm  from  the  south-east  quarter.  3.  An  obscure  island 
called  Melita,  whose  inhabitants  were  c  barbarous,’  was  not 
applicable  to  the  celebrity  of  Malta  at  that  time,  which  Cicero 
represents  as  abounding  in  curiosities  and  riches,  and  possess¬ 
ing  a  remarkable  manufacture  of  the  finest  linen :  and  Dio¬ 
dorus  Siculus  more  fully — Malta  is  furnished  with  many  and 
very  good  harbors,  and  the  inhabitants  are  very  rich,  for  it  is 
full  of  all  sorts  of  artificers,  among  whom  there  are  excellent 
weavers  of  fine  linen.  Their  houses  are  very  stately  and 
beautiful,  adorned  with  graceful  eaves,  and  pargetted  with 
white  plaster.  The  inhabitants  are  a  colony  of  Phoenicians, 
who,  trading  as  merchants  as  far  as  the  western  ocean,  resorted 
to  this  place  on  account  of  its  commodious  forts  and  conve¬ 
nient  situation  for  maritime  commerce  ;  and  by  the  advantages 
of  this  place  the  inhabitants  subsequently  became  famous  both 
for  their  wealth  and  their  merchandize.  4.  The  circumstance 
of  the  viper  or  venomous  snake  which  fastened  on  St.  Paul’s 
hand,  agrees  with  the  damp  and  woody  island  of  Meleda,  as 


ME  LIT  A - MALTA. 


63 


affording  shelter  and  proper  nourishment  for  such,  but  not 
with  the  dry  and  rocky  island  of  Malta,  in  which  there  are 
no  serpents  now,  and  were  none  in  the  time  of  Pliny.  5.  The 
disease  with  which  the  father  of  Publius  was  affected — • 
dysentery  combined  with  fever,  probably  intermittent,  might 
well  suit  a  country  woody  and  damp,  and  probably  for  want 
of  draining  exposed  to  the  putrid  effluvia  of  confined  moist¬ 
ure  ;  but  was  not  likely  to  affect  a  dry,  rocky,  and  remarka¬ 
bly  healthy  island  like  Malta. 

Dr.  Falconer,  likewise,  is  of  opinion  that  the  Adria,  men¬ 
tioned  in  Acts  xxvii.  27,  can  only  mean  the  gulph  of  Venice, 
the  admission  of  which  would  certainly  exclude  Malta ;  but 
on  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  clearly  shewn,  by  Beza,  Bo- 
chart,  Grotius,  Western,  and  others,  from  Ptolemy,  Strabo, 
and  other  writers,  that  at  the  time  in  question,  the  Adriatic  sea 
was  used  to  comprehend  the  whole  of  the  sea  between  Greece, 
Italy,  and  Africa ;  so  that  it  comprised  the  Ionian,  Cretan,  and 
Sicilian  seas. 

That  Malta  is  the  island  intended  by  St.  Luke,  in  Acts 
xxvii.,  is  to  my  mind  sufficiently  evident,  from  the  following 
considerations.  The  Apostle  left  the  island  on  which  he  was 
wrecked — whatever  it  might  have  been — in  a  ship  of  Alex¬ 
andria,  which  had  wintered  there  on  her  voyage  to  Italy ; 
and  after  touching  at  Syracuse  and  Rhegium,  landed  at  Pu- 
teoli,  thus  sailing  in  a  direct  course.  The  Illyrican  Melita, 
would  be  far  out  of  the  usual  track  from  Alexandria  to  Italy ; 
and  in  sailing  from  it  to  Rhegium,  Syracuse  also  would  be 
out  of  the  direct  course.  The  fact,  that  the  ship  was  tossed 
all  night  prior  to  the  wreck,  in  the  Adriatic  sea,  does  not  les¬ 
sen  the  probability  of  its  being  afterwards  driven  upon  Malta; 
because  the  name  Adria  was  applied  to  the  whole  Ionian  sea, 
which  lay  between  Italy  and  Greece. 

The  objection  urged  from  the  term  “barbarous  people” 
being  applied  by  St.  Luke,  in  Acts  xxviii.  2,  to  the  cultivated 
and  distinguished  inhabitants  of  Malta,  is  altogether  without 
weight.  They  were,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  of  Phoeni¬ 
cian  origin  ;  and  their  ancient  language  was  probably  in  use 


64 


SYRA. 


among  them  at  that  time,  though  intermixed  with  Greek  and 
Latin  terms  and  phrases.  Such  a  language  must  have  been 
almost  unintelligible  to  the  Romans  and  Greeks,  although, 
on  the  expulsion  of  the  Carthaginians  by  the  Romans,  it  was 
in  the  possession  of  the  latter  at  the  time  of  the  Apostle. 
With  the  Romans,  as  well  as  with  other  nations,  it  was  cus¬ 
tomary  to  apply  the  epithet 11  barbarians1’  to  those  whose  lan¬ 
guage  they  did  not  understand.  St.  Paul  himself  speaks  in 
this  way,  in  1  Cor.  xiv.  1 1 — ■“  If  I  know  not  the  meaning  of 
the  voice,  I  shall  be  unto  him  that  speaketh,  a  barbarian ;  and 
he  that  speaketh  shall  be  a  barbarian  unto  me.”  Thus  Hero¬ 
dotus,  also,  Lib.  ii.  158,  says,  ftaqfioiQovg  navjctg  Atyvmiov  xu- 
Xsovot  t ovg  (xrj  crept  u/LtoyXwcroovg.  u  The  Egyptians  call  all 
those  barbarians,  who  have  not  the  same  language  with  them¬ 
selves .”  And  Ovid,  when  among  the  Getce ,  says  in  Trist. 
verse  10 : — 

“  Barbarus  hie  ego  sum.  quia  non  intelligor  ulli 

Here  I  am  a  barbarian,  for  no  person  understands  me. 

Resuming  our  route  towards  Syra,  we  soon  lost  sight  of 
Zante  ;  and  passing  the  little  Island  of  Strophades,  were,  in 
the  course  of  the  day,  enabled  to  hail  the  distant  shores  of 
Greece.  W e  calculated  that  we  had  lost  at  least  twenty -fouff 
hours  by  reason  of  the  storm,  and  the  tack  which  had  been 
made  towards  Zante.  On  the  following  day,  after  very 
prosperous  sailing,  we  found  ourselves  entering  amidst  the 
Islands  of  the  Archipelago.  Between  ten  and  eleven  o’clock 
at  night,  we  cast  anchor  in  the  bay  of  Syra,  which  lay  bathed 
in  the  loveliest  moonlight,  presenting  a  delightful  contrast  to 
the  scenes  of  terror  with  which  we  had  been  so  recently  made 
familiar. 

The  captain’s  mate  went  ashore  immediately  on  our  arri¬ 
val  ;  and  soon  returned  with  the  intimation  that  the  passen¬ 
gers  for  Alexandria  would  have  no  time  to  land  at  Syra,  but 
must  go  at  once  on  board  the  Lycurgus — then  lying  at  an¬ 
chor,  preparing  to  sail  for  that  port  in  about  two  hours.  We 
made  all  needful  preparations — endured  a  noisy  struggle  with 


CRETE. 


65 


some  clamorous  Greek  boatmen,  and  soon  were  transferred 
from  the  one  vessel  to  the  other.  We  found  we  had  the 
whole  of  the  first-class  part  of  it  to  ourselves,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  a  young  and  gentlemanly  Egyptian,  who  had  been 
for  some  time  in  Europe,  and  had  accompanied  us  from  Na¬ 
ples,  and  was  on  his  way  to  Alexandria — his  birth-place — to 
die,  as  appeared  most  likely,  of  consumption,  under  the  rava¬ 
ges  of  which  fearful  malady  he  was  rapidly  declining.  There 
was  much  about  him  that  interested  us:  he  was  gentle  and 
apparently  amiable.  I  longed  much  to  be  able  to  converse 
freely  with  him,  as  to  the  state  of  his  soul  and  its  prospects; 
but  we  had  no  suitable  medium  of  communication.  He  un¬ 
derstood  but  little  English,  and  spoke  less.  1  have  not  heard 
of  his  fate ;  but  I  look  upon  him,  in  memory,  as  one  who  has 
long  since  passed  into  an  eternal  state. 

Our  first  day’s  passage,  after  loosing  from  Syra,  was  delight¬ 
fully  made,. at  between  eight  and  nine  knots  an  hour.  The 
climate  was  bland  and  balmy  ;  and  I  felt  my  elastic  spirits 
bounding  in  it,  after  the  trials  through  which  I  had  passed. 
The  deep  blue  of  the  graceful  ocean  was  charming  ;  and  the 
sunset,  tinging  the  joyous  waves  with  the  golden  record  of 
his  passing  brightness,  presented  a  scene  often  to  be  recalled. 
Sunsets  like  these  I  h  :d  never  before  witnessed.  It  was  not 
the  sharp  brilliancy  of  an  European  sunset,  but  a  soft  dewy 
velvet-like  painting  of  the  western  sky  and  the  glancing 
waters  which  appeared  like  liquid  gold.  At  about  five  o’clock 
in  the  afternoon  we  came  within  reach  of  the  first  dim  and 
distant  view  of  Crete  ;  but  the  evening-  closed  before  we  had 
advanced  enough  to  have  a  distinct  view  of  it,  though  passing 
pretty  near  to  its  eastern  boundary.  Still,  it  was  delightful  to 
know  that  we  were  so  near  a  spot  of  such  interest  in  the  Chris¬ 
tian  annals. 

Crete,  one  of  the  finest  islands  of  the  Mediterranean,  now 
called  Candia,  was  celebrated  for  its  early  legislative  code,  its 
civilization,  its  superstitions,  as  well  as  for  its  natural  produc¬ 
tions  in  oil,  wine,  and  fruits.  It  lies  south-west  of  Pelopon¬ 
nesus  and  west  of  Asia  Minor ;  is  about  one  hundred  and 


6* 


66 


MAHOMMEDAN  DEVOTIONS. 


eighty  miles  long,  and  twenty  broad ;  and  is  computed  to  have 
nearly  three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  who,  as  of  old, 
bear  but  an  indifferent  moral  character.  Formerly,  there 
were  about  equal  numbers  of  Greeks  and  Mahommedans  ; 
but  since  the  transfer  of  the  territory  to  the  Pasha  of  Egypt, 
Mehemet  Ali,  the  number  of  Mahommedans  has  considerably 
increased.  In  the  capital,  there  are  fourteen  Turkish  Mosques, 
a  Greek  Cathedral  and  Church,  an  Armenian  Church,  and  a 
Roman  Catholic  Monastery.  St.  Paul,  quoting  the  character 
given  of  them  by  one  of  their  own  poets,  supposed  to  be  Epi- 
menides,  says,  “  The  Cretans  are  always  liars,  evil  beasts, 
slow  bellies and  Mr.  Hartley,  in  his  Researches  in  Greece , 
says,  u  The  Cretans  of  the  present  day  are  precisely  what 
they  were  in  the  day  of  the  Apostle  Paul ;  they  are  notori¬ 
ously,  whether  Turks  or  Greeks,  the  very  worst  characters  in 
the  Levant.” 

Crete  wTas  at  an  early  period  the  site  of  a  Christian  Church, 
of  which  Titus  was  the  first  bishop.* 

It  was  on  board  the  Lycurgus,  just  at  sunset,  that  I  first 
witnessed  the  performance  of  Moslem  devotions.  At  the  fore 
part  of  the  vessel  there  was  a  group  of  Mahommedans,  with 
an  appearance  of  devoutness  about  them  worthy  of  a  better 
creed.  They  spread  out  their  segaddehs,  or  prayer-carpets, 
which  those  who  can  afford  it  always  carry  with  them,  and 
which  are  of  the  size  of  a  large  hearth-rug,  of  beautiful  mate¬ 
rials  and  pattern.  Pulling  off  their  slippers,  they  stand  on 
these  carpets  with  their  bare  feet,  repeating  a  certain  order  of 
prayers  in  a  very  low  voice,  accompanied  by  a  number  of 
genuflexions  and  prostrations,  touching  frequently  the  ground 
with  their  forehead — with  the  face  turned  always  towards 
Mecca,  the  shrine  of  Mahomet.  I  could  but  respect  the  ap¬ 
parent  devotedness  of  manner,  though  in  connection  with  a 
system  in  which  truth  holds  but  little  place.  When,  thought 
I,  will  they  be  followers  of  the  Lamb  !  And  will  the  drying 
up  of  the  Euphrates,!  be  the  opening  of  the  well-springs  of 
salvation  to  these  slaves  of  the  false  prophet? 

*  Titus,  i.  5. 


t  Rev.  xvi.  12. 


FIRST  VIEW  OF  ALEXANDRIA. 


67 


The  next  night  passed  serenely,  and  the  next  day — -during 
which  we  made  successful  progress  towards  Alexandria.  The 
morning  of  the  twenty-fifth  of  April  opened  with  a  fresh  and 
stirring  breeze ;  and  the  whole  crew  and  passengers,  eveii 
our  poor  sick  companion,  seemed  all  animation,  at  the  pros¬ 
pect  of  reaching  the  destined  port — the  ancient,  far-famed  city 
of  Egypt,  before  sunset.  I  freely  partook  of  the  general 
exhilaration  ;  and  felt  that  I  was  indeed  nearing  the  most 
deeply  interesting  parts  of  the  inhabited  globe.  My  imagi¬ 
nation  was  very  creative ;  and  I  became  at  last  almost  im¬ 
patient,  as  if  the  u  leaden-winged”  hours  were  moving  far  too 
slowly.  Twelve  o’clock  came,  and  the  stronger  sighted  of  the 
crew  were  able,  they  said,  to  descry  something  in  the  distance. 
Was  it  the  land  of  mystery  and  of  miracle  in  reality;  or  did 
their  imagination  shape  forth  things  that  were  not  yet  visible 
to  the  bodily  eye?  1  could  discern  nothing,  however  willing 
do  believe  that  the  land  of  Egypt  was  in  sight.  Another  houi 
passed  ;  and  I  thought  I  could  perceive  somewhat  that  had 
the  appearance  of  a  thin  narrow  strip  of  land.  Others  were 
quite  sure  they  could.  At  length  a  low  range  of  irregular 
buildings — more  like  shadow  than  reality,  presented  itself : 
and  to  the  right  of  it  I  could  trace  a  long  narrow  ridge  of 
sand,  more  like  a  deeply  defined  horizon  line  than  anything 
else.  Soon  it  became  distinct  enough  to  be  recognized  as  an 
ocean-boundary;  but  so  low,  that  it  seemed  wonderful  it 
should  not  be  covered  by  the  waters  of  the  sea.  Above  the 
horizon,  a  remarkable  appearance  presented  itself — as  if  the 
whole  atmosphere  were  impregnated  with  sand,  borne  by  the 
breezes  from  the  Lybian  desert.  And  this  probably  was  the 
case,  as  the  sands  are  thus  carried  onwards  to  an  immense 
distance.  Soon  my  imagination  began  to  act  upon  the  idea 
of  crossing  trackless  deserts,  amidst  wild  and  lawless  tribes. 
I  seemed  at  once  to  lose  sight,  in  my  memory,  of  the  interest¬ 
ing  European  scenes  through  which  I  had  passed ;  and 
Egypt  and  Palestine,  with  all  their  rich  associations,  rose 
before  my  excited  fancy;  while  home  itself,  with  all  its  ob¬ 
jects  of  affection,  seemed  at  a  vast  distance  indeed.  I  was  in 


68 


ARRIVAL  AT  ALEXANDRIA. 


sight  of  the  land  of  the  Pharaohs — the  scene  of  Israel’s  bon¬ 
dage  and  deliverance — the  burial-place  of  the  mighty  Alex 
ander. 

Another  hour  brought  us  to  a  tolerably  distinct  view  of  the 
city,  We  still  made  way  ;  and  in  due  time  hoisted  the  usual 
signal  for  an  Egyptian  pilot  to  come  and  steer  us  into  the 
very  difficult  and  dangerous  port:  a  port  which  needs  always 
to  be  approached  by  a  skilful  and  experienced  hand,  on  ac¬ 
count  of  the  many  rocks  but  slightly  covered  by  the  sea. 
The  signal  was  answered  by  the  putting  off  from  Alexandria 
of  a  pilot-boat,  with  its  graceful  latteen  sail,  which  bounded 
like  a  bird,  over  the  rather  heavy  swell  of  the  bay.  It  soon 
neared  us ;  and  it  was  quite  an  exciting  picture  when  we  saw 
its  little  crew  in  their  graceful  Arab  costume — their  turbaned 
heads  and  flowing  garments,  managing  their  little  bark  with 
the  greatest  tact,  and  putting  on  board  our  vessel  the  pilot — a 
fine,  middle-aged  Arab,  as  brown  as  a  berry,  and  with  a  full 
black  beard,  who  at  once  assumed  the  management,  giving 
direction  upon  direction,  till  the  signal  was  made  for  casting 
anchor,  and  our  voyage  was  complete.  Boats  in  great  num¬ 
bers  were  quickly  around  us ;  and,  taking  possession  of  one, 
we  got  our  luggage  cleared  with  all  possible  celerity.  Loud 
was  the  clamor,  and  wild  the  scene.  We  had  then  a  distance 
of  nearly  two  miles  ere  we  could  get  on  shore ;  and  when  we 
fairly  came  to  land,  what  a  picture  was  presented.  The 
oriental  appearance  of  the  city  and  of  its  population  spoke  for 
itself  at  once  ;  and  we  felt  that  an  African  climate  was  about 
us.  Throngs  of  half-naked  Arabs,  clamorous  for  employment 
as  porters,  stood  around.  The  harsh  guttural  of  the  Arabic 
tongue  sounded  strangely  in  our  ears.  Asses — some  saddled 
for  riding,  and  others  prepared  to  carry  baggage,  together 
with  guides  and  servants  proffering  their  services,  all  pressed 
upon  us  together,  as  we  first  set  our  feet  on  the  shores  of 
Egypt ;  while,  somewhat  in  the  background,  a  long  string 
of  camels,  laden  with  timber,  stones  for  building,  and  water 
skins,  passed  along,  with  their  slow,  dreamy,  yet  majestic 
step ;  and  here  and  there  the  “  feathery  palm-trees”  waved 


ALEXANDRIA. 


69 


gracefully  in  the  slightly  moving  breeze  which  swept  over 
them  from  the  desert.  It  was  indeed  a  heart-stirring  moment 
when  we  first  stepped  ashore — in  a  strange  land,  and  such  a 
land  as  this,  where  every  thing  is  a  subject  for  the  painter, 
and  tends  to  realize  to  the  mind  all  the  orientalism  which 
one  has  been  accustomed  to  contemplate  through  the  medium 
of  books  and  pictures. 

It  would  have  amused  our  friends  in  England,  could  they 
but  have  seen  us  on  our  arrival,  with  our  baggage  laid  upon 
asses,  guided  by  attendant  Arab  men  and  boys — a  troop  of 
them,  all  jealous  of  each  other  on  account  of  the  few  piastres 
which  were  to  be  the  price  of  the  accommodation  ;  the  selected 
ones  exulting — the  rejected  ones  growling  and  fuming — and 
all  going  in  uproarious  procession  through  the  narrow  and 
squalid-looking  streets  and  avenues  of  the  Arab  quarter, 
amidst  crowds  of  the  most  picturesque  figures  that  can  be 
conceived— some  gravely  and  silently  smoking  their  long 
pipes — some  squatting  on  the  dust  in  the  shade  of  the  low 
mud-walled  dwellings,  in  earnest  conversation — some  playing 
at  games,  and  others  carrying  on  their  heads  and  crying 
various  articles  of  small  merchandize.  Women  were  seen 
bearing  their  half-naked  babes  astride  on  their  shoulders,  and 
others  riding  on  donkeys,  which  are  the  11  hackney-coaches” 
of  Alexandria.  Winding  our  way  slowly  through  the  over¬ 
hung  and  confined  streets,  with  a  sense  of  entire  novelty  and 
strangeness,  we  reached  at  length  the  European  Hotel,  re¬ 
joicing  at  finding  ourselves  once  more  in  a  condition  to  enjoy 
rest  and  repose. 

Here  ends  the  first  stage  of  my  pilgrimage.  I  scarcely 
know  which  is  more  delightful — the  experience,  or  the  re¬ 
collection.  Both  have  their  peculiar  charms.  The  former 
was  transient ;  the  latter  will  be  permanent,  so  long  as  mem¬ 
ory  shall  retain  the  power  of  calling  up  her  visions  of  the 
past. 


CHAPTER  II. 


EGYPT. 


Alexandria — Bazaars — Female  Costume — Pompey’s  Pillar — Cleopatra’s  Needle— 
Arab  Cemetery — Egyptian  Funeral  Procession— Travelling  Apparatus — Marriage 
Procession — Mahmoudi  Canal — Arab  Horsemen — Mehemet  Ali — Atfeh — The 
Nile — Boat  crew — Shubra — Pyramids — Boulakh — Grand  Cairo — Rhoda  Island — 
Bath — Bedaween  Arabs — Sheikh  Hussein — Sheikh  Suleiman  Mengid — Prepara¬ 
tions  for  the  Desert — Cairo — Slave  Market— Greek  Convent— Pyramids  of  Ghiseh 
— Old  Cairo — Dervishes — Egyptian  Harvest — Pyramids  of  Ghiseh — The  Sphynx — 
The  Camel— Camel-riding. 

It  was  part  of  our  original  plan  to  have  made  an  excursion 
in  Upper  Egypt,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  those  noble 
antiquities  which  have  absorbed  so  much  attention  in  late 
years ;  hat  an  opinion  expressed  by  Caviglia,  at  Paris,  was 
confirmed  by  others  at  Alexandria — that  the  season  was  too  far 
advanced  to  admit  of  our  fulfilling  this  intention  with  safety 
and  comfort. 

At  Alexandria  we  resolved  to  make  such  a  brief  sojourn, 
as  should  enable  us  to  get  the  best  advice  as  to  our  route 
through  the  Arabian  Desert,  and  to  make  some  of  the  need¬ 
ful  preparations  for  that  expedition.  I  am  therefore  prepared 
to  sketch  only  a  few  particulars  in  reference  to  that  celebrated 
locality,  now  so  faded,  and  shorn  of  its  ancient  splendor  and 
importance.  As  I  have  less  to  do  with  Alexandria  as  it  was, 
than  as  it  is,  I  shall  just  follow  the  order  of  my  journal. 

Our  first  visit  was  to  the  bazaars,  which  in  oriental  towns 
are  the  centre  of  all  activity,  and  the  scenes  in  which  national 
character  is  variously  displayed.  They  are  contained  in  close 
and  confined  streets,  in  the  midst  of  which  there  is  an  inde¬ 
scribable  admixture,  and  an  incessant  stir  of  all  orders  and 
classes — picturesque  in  the  extreme  ;  and  to  the  European, 
unpractised  in  the  thing,  it  is  at  first  a  matter  of  difficulty  to 


ALEXANDRIA - BAZAARS. 


71 


make  progress ;  for  while  he  is  striving  to  avoid  a  troop  of 
donkeys  and  their  obstreperous  drivers,  he  is  in  great  danger 
of  being  trampled  under  foot,  by  a  string  of  heavily-laden 
camels  unexpectedly  turning  a  corner  upon  him,  and,  with 
their  burdens  slung  on  either  side,  occupying  almost  the  en¬ 
tire  width  of  the  street.  The  Turks,  Arabs,  and  Copts,  are 
generally  well  behaved  ;  and  never,  so  far  as  I  know,  offer  a 
gratuitous  incivility  to  a  stranger.  I  certainly  never  experi¬ 
enced  any ;  and  indeed,  on  one  occasion,  when  an  Arab, 
rapidly  passing  me,  happened  unintentionally  to  spit  upon 
my  coat,  he  seemed  in  the  greatest  confusion — stopped — ■ 
bowed  his  head — took  up  a  fold  of  his  own  garment,  and 
deliberately  removed  the  offensive  contribution.  The  most 
touchy  Englishman  could  not  have  been  angry  on  such  an 
occasion. 

The  bazaars  present  every  article  of  convenience  suitable 
to  oriental  notions  ;  and  indeed  at  Alexandria,  most  European 
wants  may  be  well  enough  supplied.  Bazaars  for  the  sale 
of  tobacco  of  various  kinds,  and  in  various  forms  for  consump¬ 
tion,  are  found  in  all  directions ;  and  the  smell  of  tobacco 
smoke  is  the  most  familiar  odor  of  the  place.  Everybody 
smokes,  and  at  every  hour  of  the  day.  The  whole  front  of 
the  bazaars  is  open,  and  has  a  floor  raised  about  two  or  three 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  street.  It  is  furnished  with  carpets 
and  sometimes  with  cushions  in  the  form  of  a  dewan ;  and 
on  these  the  purchaser  is  not  unfrequently  seated,  while  select¬ 
ing  the  articles  he  wants,  and  agreeing — or  rather  disagreeing 
and  haggling  about  the  price ;  for  every  one  who  purchases 
at  a  Turkish  or  Arab  bazaar  must  make  up  his  mind  to  this, 
unless  he  would  pay  double  the  value  of  all  he  needs.  The 
Arab  traders  are  a  stirring,  active  people — on  the  look  out 
for  customers,  and  prompt  in  attending  to  them.  It  is  the 
reverse  with  the  Turks.  They  will  suffer  you  to  stand  and 
look  about,  and  handle  the  various  goods  within  reach,  with¬ 
out  rising  from  their  usually  recumbent  posture,  or  putting 
their  long  pipes  from  their  mouths.  When  you  go  so  far  as 
to  express  any  particular  want,  they  will  slowly  and  almost 


72 


ALEXANDRIA - FEMALE  COSTUME. 


unwillingly  break  in  upon  the  half  repose  which  they  are 
enjoying,  and  place  before  you  the  required  articles,  appar¬ 
ently  careless  whether  you  purchase  or  not. 

Though  there  is  a  spirit  of  improvement  manifesting  itself 
in  the  external  aspect  of  Alexandria — the  effect  of  the  Pasha’s 
enterprising  disposition ;  though,  from  the  bay  to  the  citadel, 
and  thence  throughout  the  public  works,  there  are  proofs  of 
growing  importance  which  cannot  be  overlooked  ;  yet,  were 
it  not  for  her  past  history,  there  would  be  little  to  fix  the  at¬ 
tention  of  travellers  accustomed  to  contemplate  the  splendor 
of  European  cities,  under  more  enlightened  governments. 
An  air  of  poverty  and  sadness  pervades  this  once  glorious 
capital.  The  great  admixture  of  Europeans  with  the  native 
population,  deprives  the  city  of  much  of  its  oriental  peculiarity ; 
and  in  this  respect,  it  reminded  me  somewhat  of  Malta,  espe¬ 
cially  in  the  European  quarter. 

The  women,  for  the  most  part,  go  veiled  about  the  streets, 
in  the  most  secret  manner ;  and  often  are  so  enveloped  that 
all  idea  of  form  is  lost.  The  upper  part  of  the  face  is  com¬ 
monly  covered  with  a  kind  of  mask,  made  of  some  stiff  ma¬ 
terial,  and  generally  of  a  dark  color.  It  is  fastened  with  a 
strip  of  leather,  passing  over  the  forehead  to  the  nose,  and  has 
holes  cut  so  as  just  to  leave  the  sight  unobstructed.  The 
lower  part  of  the  face  is  concealed  by  a  long  conical-shaped 
bag  or  purse,  pendant  from  the  mask.  Some  of  the  women 
have  the  mask  ornamented  with  coins  strung  together  in  rows, 
extending  downwards  from  the  forehead.  Their  usual  dress 
out  of  doors,  is  either  of  white  or  blue  cotton  stuff,  and  con¬ 
sists  of  a  sort  of  loose  gown  with  wide  sleeves,  and  another 
large  piece  of  the  same  material  in  the  form  of  a  wide  man¬ 
tle,  which  serves  to  envelope  the  head,  shoulders,  and  indeed 
the  whole  figure,  when  desirable. 

While  in  Alexandria,  I  observed  a  great  number  of  Arabs 
with  only  one  eye ;  the  other  having  perished  by  disease  or 
violent  means.  The  latter  is  said  to  be  common,  and  to  have 
been  very  much  the  consequence  of  the  severity  of  Mehemet 
Ali’s  conscription — mothers  having  deprived  their  children  of 


pompey’s  pillaii — cleopatka’s  needle.  73 

one  eye  in  infancy,  in  order  to  render  them  unfit  for  military 
service.  But  while  in  the  east,  I  learnt  that  the  crafty  Pasha 
of  Egypt  was  not  to  be  baffled,  even  by  these  cruel  and  de¬ 
basing  precautions.  He  has  formed  two  corps  of  one-eyed 
soldiers ;  but  for  wliat  particular  service  it  may  be  difficult  to 
determine. 

Every  traveller  who  stays  at  Alexandria  makes  a  point  of 
visiting  Pompey’s  pillar,  as  it  is  called,  and  two  fine  ancient 
obelisks,  one  of  which  is  known  by  the  name  of  Cleopatra’s 
needle.  We  did  so.  The  former  is  a  noble  column  of  the 
Corinthian  order,  formed  of  red  granite ;  and  is,  according  to 
Pococke,  one  hundred  and  seventeen  feet  high  ;  according  to 
others,  only  ninety-five.  It  stands  on  an  elevated  spot  of  the 
ancient  city,  between  the  walls  of  the  modern  one  and  the 
Lake  Mareotis.  The  latter  are  also  of  red  granite,  one  of 
which  is  still  standing,  though  slightly  out  of  the  perpendicu¬ 
lar.  The  other  lies  near  it,  partly  hidden  in  the  sand;  and 
both  are  about  sixty-five  feet  in  length,  and  between  seven 
and  eight  feet  square.  The  erect  one  was  freed,  by  the 
French,  from  the  sand,  which  for  many  years  had  been  accu¬ 
mulating  about  its  base,  to  a  depth  of  at  least  sixteen  feet. 
Each  side  is  covered  with  sculptured  hieroglyphics,  which, 
towards  the  west,  are  sharp  and  fresh,  as  if  the  chisel  had  but 
recently  left  them.  Those  on  the  other  side  are  far  less  dis¬ 
tinct,  owing  probably  to  the  stress  of  wind  and  weather,  which 
has  power  to  wear  away  even  granite.  How  perishable  is 
the  hand  of  man.  How  enduring  are  its  achievements.  It 
is  a  humbling  thought. 

The  history  of  Alexandria  occupies  a  conspicuous  place  in 
the  annals  of  antiquity.  Greatness  and  nothingness — nobility 
and  degradation,  have  been  her  characteristics — the  various 
phases  of  her  existence.  It  awakens  many  a  solemn  thought 
to  stand  amidst  the  proofs  of  her  desolation,  and  to  mark  the 
struggles  which  she  is  now  making  for  political  and  commer¬ 
cial  resuscitation.  If,  under  the  Ptolemies,  she  was  the  proud 
metropolis  of  Egypt,  if  she  drew  forth  the  resources  of  Tyre 
m  her  greatness,  and  became  the  grand  commercial  centre  of 

7 


74 


ALEXANDRIA — ARAD  CEMETERY,  ETC. 


the  east,  yet  she  has  been,  until  recently,  the  chain-bound  vas¬ 
sal  of  the  Sultan.  If  with  the  name  of  Alexandria,  we  asso¬ 
ciate  those  of  some  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  earth — we 
cannot  overlook  the  fact,  that  she  beheld  their  degradation. 
Though  I  can  think  of  the  past  glories  of  Alexandria,  as  I 
recollect  a  gorgeous  dream — yet,  on  my  memory  is  deeply 
recorded  the  fact,  that  there,  Apollos — the  man  u  mighty  in 
the  scriptures,”  and  gifted  in  eloquence — was  born  ;  and  there, 
Mark  the  Evangelist,  preached  u  Christ  the  power  of  God  and 
the  wisdom  of  God,”  and  received  the  crown  of  martyrdom  ; 
and  that  there,  too,  the  Septuagint  translation  of  the  Scriptures 
was  achieved,  which  laid  open  the  page  of  inspiration  to  the 
whole  of  the  then  civilized  world. 

In  our  way  to  the  site  of  the  ancient  city,  we  passed  through 
an  Arab  burial-ground,  covering  the  slope  of  a  small  hill. 
The  resting  places  of  its  silent  inmates  are  marked  by  rudely 
formed  tombs,  consisting  generally  of  two  or  more  slabs  of 
stone  laid  upon  each  other,  of  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
grave  ;  some  of  them  have  the  form  of  a  turban  roughly 
sculptured  on  a  low  pillar  of  stone,  fixed  at  the  end  ;  and  all 
have  an  aloe  planted  in  the  middle  of  the  uppermost  slab.  I 
have  sought  in  vain  to  inform  myself  in  regard  to  the  inten¬ 
tion  of  this  custom.  There  must  surely  be  some  superstitious 
idea  connected  with  it. 

Though  Alexandria  has  sunk  beyond  all  hope  of  return  to 
her  former  splendor,  yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  Mehemet 
Ali  evinces  a  vast  spirit  of  enterprise.  He  is  a  man  far  in 
advance  of  the  age  in  which  he  lives ;  and  though  it  is  out  of 
the  question  to  offer  a  justification  of  some  of  the  means  where¬ 
by  he  works  out  the  designs  of  his  policy,  yet  it  must  be  al¬ 
lowed  that  much  has  been  well  done.  Though  living  under 
a  purely  despotic  government,  the  people  appear  cheerful  and 
happy ;  and  certainly  I  have  never  seen  in  Egypt  such  in¬ 
stances  of  squalid  misery  and  mendicity  as  I  met  with  in 
Italy,  wherever  I  went. 

It  is  quite  amusing  to  see  great  numbers  of  Arab  lads, 
waiting  with  caparisoned  donkeys,  at  the  ends  of  streets.  As 


EGYPTIAN.;  FUNERAL  PROCESSION.  75 

soon  as  any  one  likely  to  want  their  aid  presents  himself  near 
the  corner,  you  hear  them  cry  out  like  parrots,  in  oriental- 
English — u  Captain,  Captain — want  to  ride  ? — want  a  don 
key  ?  very  good  donkey — very  good.”  After  having  received 
a  negative,  they  do  not  force  themselves  upon  you  offensively 
like  those  pests  of  Naples — the  hack-coachmen ;  but  if  you 
resolve  upon  indulging  yourself  with  a  ride,  a  grand  commo* 
tion  at  once  sets  in  among  the  party,  and  it  is  almost  difficult 
to  keep  one’s  feet  amidst  the  jostling  of  Arabs  and  asses. 
The  prudent  traveller  will  spring  upon  the  back  of  the  near¬ 
est  animal ;  and  in  an  instant  he  will  find  himself  delivered 
by  an  easy  canter  and  the  shout  of  the  rejoicing  driver,  out  of 
the  immediate  scene  of  strife  and  annoyance.  The  donkeys 
are  strong,  lively  animals,  and  carry  even  a  heavy  weight 
with  apparent  ease  and  safety. 

Every  hour  spent  in  an  oriental  city,  presents  new  and 
ever  varying  objects  of  curiosity  and  interest.  One  day  when 
I  was  sitting  at  my  open  window,  I  heard  distant  sounds 
of  wailing  and  chanting.  They  soon  became  more  distinctly 
audible ;  and  at  length  I  found  they  proceeded  from  a  funeral 
procession,  just  in  sight.  As  it  advanced,  I  observed  that  the 
corpse  was  borne  along  upon  a  bier,  by  four  Arabs,  with 
others  to  relieve  them,  as  might  be  needful.  It  was  covered 
with  a  large  crimson  shawl ;  and  at  one  end  was  a  turban — 
probably  that  of  the  deceased,  fixed  upon  a  short  pole.  The 
corpse  was  preceded  by  a  large  concourse  of  Arabs,  walking 
two  abreast,  and  chanting  a  wild  and  plaintive  melody — the 
sequel  of  that  which  had  at  first  arrested  my  attention,  some¬ 
times  in  unison,  and  sometimes  with  an  attempt  at  harmony. 
The  procession  moved  at  a  rapid  pace,  towards  the  burial- 
ground  ;  and  the  corpse  was  followed  by  four  veiled  women, 
uttering  loud  and  discordant  exclamations.  There  was  an  air 
of  wild  intensity  about  the  whole  scene,  which  contrasted 
strongly,  in  my  mind,  with  the  silent  and  subdued  feelings 
which  characterize  an  English  funeral. 

On  the  subject  of  funeral  solemnities,  as  formerly  practised 
in  ancient,  and  as  still  observed  in  modern  Egypt,  I  have  met 


76 


EGYPTIAN  MOURNERS — FUNERAL  CUSTOMS. 


with  interesting  particulars,  collected  by  Sir  John  G.  Wilkin¬ 
son  and  Mr.  Lane,  which  I  will  briefly  state.  In  ancient 
Egypt,  when  any  one  died,  all  the  females  of  his  family, 
covering  their  heads  and  faces  with  dust  and  mud,  and  leaving 
the  body  in  the  house,  ran  through  the  streets,  striking  theil 
breasts,  and  uttering  loud  lamentations.  Their  friends  and 
relations  joined  them,  as  they  went,  uniting  in  the  same  de¬ 
monstrations  of  grief;  and  wrhen  the  deceased  was  a  person 
of  distinction,  many  strangers  accompanied  them  out  of  respect 
to  his  memory.  Hired  mourners  were  also  employed,  to  addf 
by  their  feigned  expressions  of  grief,  to  the  real  lamentations 
of  the  family,  and  to  heighten  the  show  of  respect  paid  to  the 
deceased.  The  men,  in  like  manner,  girding  their  dress  be' 
low  their  waists,  went  through  the  town  smiting  their  breasts 
and  throwing  dust  and  mud  upon  their  heads.  But  the  greater 
number  of  mourners  consisted  of  women,  as  is  usual  in  Egypt 
at  the  present  day :  and  since  the  mode  of  lamentation  n®v> 
practised  is  probably  very  similar  to  that  of  former  times,  8 
description  of  it  may  be  interesting. 

As  soon  as  the  marks  of  approaching  death  are  observed 
the  females  of  the  family  raise  the  cry  of  lamentation ;  one 
generally  commencing  in  a  low  tone,  and  exclaiming,  u  0 
my  misfortune !”  which  is  immediately  taken  up  by  anothei 
with  increased  vehemence,  and  all  ioin  in  similar  exclama 
tions,  united  with  piercing  cries.  They  call  on  the  deceased 
according  to  their  degree  of  relationship — as,  “  O  my  father 
O  my  mother !” — “  O  my  sister,  O  my  brother  !” — a  O  my 
aunt !”  or,  according  to  the  friendship  and  connection  subsist 
ing  between  them — as,  u  O  my  master  !”  u  O  lord  of  the  house !’ 

O  my  friend  !”■ — “  O  my  dear,  my  soul,  my  eyes  !”  and  many 
of  the  neighbors,  as  well  as  friends  of  the  family,  join  in  the 
lamentation.  A  sort  of  funeral  dirge  is  also  chanted  by  the 
mourning  women,  to  the  sound  of  the  tambourine,  from  which 
the  tinkling  plates  have  been  removed.  This  continues  till 
the  funeral  takes  place,  which,  if  the  person  died  in  the  morn 
ing,  is  performed  the  same  day ;  but  if  in  the  afternoon  oi 


EGYPTIAN  FUNERAL  CEREMONIES. 


evening,  it  is  deferred  until  the  morning,  the  lamentations 
being-  continued  all  night. 

Mr.  Lane  thus  describes  the  funeral  procession.  The  first 
persons  forming  it,  are  about  six  or  more  poor  men,  called 
Yemeneeh ,  mostly  blind,  who  proceed  two  and  two,  or  three 
and  three,  together.  Walking  at  a  moderate  pace,  or  rather 
slowly,  they  chant,  in  a  melancholy  tone,  the  profession  of 
faith,  or  sometimes  other  words.  These  are  followed  by  some 
male  relations  and  friends  of  the  deceased,  and  in  many  cases 
by  two  or  more  persons  of  some  sect  of  Dervishes,  bearing  the 
flags  of  their  order :  next  follow  three  or  four  boys,  one  of 
whom  carries  a  copy  of  the  Koran,  placed  upon  a  kind  of 
desk,  formed  of  palm  sticks,  and  covered  over  generally  with 
an  embroidered  kerchief.  These  boys  chant  in  a  higher  and 
livelier  voice  than  the  Yemeneeh,  usually  some  words  of  a 
poem,  descriptive  of  the  events  of  the  last  day,  the  judgment, 
&c.  The  boys  immediately  precede  the  bier,  which  is  borne 
head  foremost.  Three  or  four  friends  of  the  deceased  usually 
carry  it  for  a  short  distance ;  then  three  or  four  other  friends, 
who  are  in  like  manner  relieved.  Behind  the  bier,  walk  the 
female  mourners,  sometimes  a  group  of  more  than  a  dozen  or 
twenty,  with  their  hair  dishevelled,  though  generally  com 
cealed  by  the  head  veil — crying  and  shrieking.  Among  the 
women,  the  relations  and  domestics  of  the  deceased  are  each 
distinguished  by  a  strip  of  linen,  or  cotton  stuff,  or  muslin, 
generally  blue,  bound  round  the  head,  and  tied  in  a  single 
knot  behind,  the  ends  hanging  down  a  few  inches.  Each  of 
these  carries  also  a  handkerchief,  usually  dyed  blue,  which 
she  sometimes  holds  over  her  shoulders,  and  at  other  times 
twirls  with  both  hands  over  her  head,  or  before  her  face. 
The  cries  of  women,  the  lively  chanting  of  the  youths,  and 
the  deep  tones  uttered  by  the  Yemeneeh,  compose  a  strange 
discord. 

The  wailing  of  women  at  funerals  was  forbidden  by  the 
prophet  ;  and  so  also  was  the  celebration  of  the  virtues  of  the 
deceased.  Some  of  these  precepts  are  every  day  violated ; 
and  I  have  seen  mourninp-  women  of  the  lower  classes  follow 


78  FUNERAL  CEREMONIES: — TRAVELLING  APPARATUS. 

ng  a  bier,  having  their  faces,  which  were  bare,  and  their  head- 
coverinofs  and  bosoms  besmeared  with  mud. 

The  funeral  procession  of  a  man  of  wealth,  or  of  the  middle 
classes,  is  sometimes  preceded  by  three,  four  or  more  camels, 
bearing'  bread  and  water  to  give  to  the  poor  at  the  tomb,  and 
is  composed  of  a  more  numerous  and  varied  assemblage  of 
persons.  In  such  a  procession — besides  the  persons  already 
mentioned,  the  led  horses  of  the  bearers,  if  men  of  rank,  often 
follow  the  bier  ;  and  a  buffalo,  to  be  sacrificed  at  the  tomb 
where  its  flesh  is  to  be  distributed  to  the  poor,  closes  the 
procession. 

Having  resolved  to  proceed  to  Cairo,  there  to  decide  upon 
our  future  movements,  we  set  about  making  such  provisions 
for  our  journey  as  the  customs  of  the  country  rendered  neces¬ 
sary  ;  for  in  the  east,  no  comforts  or  conveniences  for  the 
traveller  are  to  be  met  with  by  the  way.  If  he  desire  the 
luxury  of  a  bed,  he  must  carry  it  with  him ;  if  the  protection 
of  a  tent,  against  the  heat  of  the  sun,  he  must  not  omit  to 
furnish  himself  with  it  before  he  starts;  if  his  European 
habits  lead  him  to  look  upon  plates,  cups,  knives,  forks,  and 
spoons  as  needful  matters  of  convenience,  he  must  secure 
them  ere  he  bids  farewell  to  the  bazaars  of  Alexandria  and 
Cairo ;  and  so,  in  like  manner,  in  regard  to  the  ordinary  mat¬ 
ters  of  sustenance — biscuit,  rice,  maccaroni,  coffee,  sugar,  pre¬ 
served  fruits,  &c.  A  long  fatiguing  visit  to  the  bazaars  of 
Alexandria,  furnished  us  with  many  requisites ;  the  rest  we 
were  obliged  to  defer  till  we  should  reach  Cairo.  It  is  a 
disgusting  task  to  make  bargains  with  oriental  traders ;  the 
utter  dishonesty  of  their  habits  is  so  apparent.  They  make 
no  attempt  at  concealment.  I  am  now  speaking  of  oriental 
traders;  but  I  cannot  help  adding  my  fervent  wish  that 
instances  of  over-reaching,  and  degrading  dishonesty  were 
confined  to  them. 

While  we  were  in  our  rooms  on  the  evening  preceding 
our  departure,  making  various  preparations  for  the  journey, 
our  attention  was  arrested  by  a  loud  sound — a  chorus  of 
men’s  voices,  accompanied  by  the  beating  of  drums  and  the 


iViA IIMOUDI  CANAL— ARAB  HORSEMEN. 


79 


rude  music  of  reed-pipes,  with  a  drone,  not  altogether  unlike 
the  Scottish  bagpipes.  On  turning  to  the  window,  we  saw 
a  long  procession  of  gaily-dressed  persons,  bearing  lighted 
torches,  which  illuminated  the  whole  street.  In  addition  to 
this,  fire-baskets,  of  iron,  were  carried  about  on  long  poles, 
supplied  with  blazing  fuel.  It  was  a  marriage  procession — 
“  the  voice  of  the  bridegroom  and  of  the  bride.”  The  bride¬ 
groom  was  on  his  way  to  claim  his  bride,  attended  by  his 
friends,  rejoicing.  The  whole  scene  forcibly  brought  to  my 
mind  the  allusions  to  marriage  customs  made  by  our  blessed 
Saviour. 

It  was  early  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  April  that  we  com¬ 
menced  our  route  to  Grand  Cairo — no  small  undertaking,  all 
things  considered.  Our  passage  was  along  the  Mahmoudi 
canal,  as  far  as  xVtfeh  ;  and  from  thence  up  the  Nile.  The 
season  was  charming;  but  the  way  was  dreary  enough.  Soon 
after  we  had  embarked  in  our  towing-boat,  I  noticed  a  con¬ 
trivance  for  raising  water  from  the  canal,  for  the  purpose  of 
irrigation.  Many  repetitions  of  it  occurred  as  we  advanced. 
It  was  a  kind  of  u  man-mill,”  if  I  may  venture  upon  such  a 
designation.  At  the  brinjt  of  the  canal  stood  two  men,  on  a 
firm  floor  or  footing,  constructed  with  rough  stones,  holding 
between  them  a  sort  of  basket,  made  water  tight,  capable  of 
containing,  perhaps,  about  six  or  eight  gallons,  suspended  by 
a  rope,  fastened  at  each  side  and  drawn  tight.  Then  by  a 
rapid,  see-saw  motion,  they  first  dived  the  vessel  into  the 
water,  and  quickly  bringing  it  back  again,  inverted  it,  pour¬ 
ing  its  contents  into  a  channel  cut  in  the  bank,  along  which 
the  water  flowed  towards  the  spot  from  which  the  irrigation 
was  intended  to  proceed.  It  was  a  very  simple,  yet  efficient 
contrivance. 

All  our  progress  along  the  canal  was  effected  by  towing — 
for  which  purpose,  sometimes  four,  and  at  others,  six  horses 
were  employed,  and  changed  about  every  twelve  miles.  The 
horses  were  ridden  by  wild,  half-naked  Arabs,  and  sometimes 
Nubians,  whose  feats  of  horsemanship,  on  the  banks  of  the 
canal,  were  perfectly  novel  and  amusing.  The  Arab,  though 


80 


MEHEMET  ALI. 


taught  to  ride  from  his  birth — first  astride  on  the  shoulders  of 
his  mother,  and  then,  on  every  animal  from  the  camel  to  the 
ass,  is  yet  a  most  peculiar  rider.  He  does  not,  like  a  Euro¬ 
pean,  sit  so  close  to  his  horse,  as  to  appear  glued  to  the 
creature,  but  he  looks  more  like  a  bird,  ready  to  take  wing  at 
any  moment ;  and  he  seems  to  lay  hold  of  the  stirrup  with  his 
bare  feet,  as  if  they  were  the  claws  of  a  bird.  When  dashing 
along  at  a  rapid  rate,  they  set  up  a  wild  shout,  which  breaks 
at  length  into  a  choral  song,  anything  but  harmonious  to 
European  ears.  In  some  parts  of  the  canal  the  water  is 
exceedingly  scanty,  and,  on  other  accounts  also,  impracticable 
for  the  ordinary  plan  of  towing  with  horses  on  the  banks. 
This  inconvenience  is  constantly  met  by  the  riders  springing 
from  their  horses,  dashing  at  once  into  the  water,  tackling 
themselves  with  ropes,  and  swimming  sometimes,  and  at  other 
times  rushing  over  the  shoals  of  sand,  and  dragging  the  boat 
along  with  surprising  force  and  agility.  In  this  picturesque 
operation  they  are  joined  by  the  crew ;  while  the  unyoked 
horses  are  led  on  to  resume  their  labor  as  soon  as  the  state  of 
the  river  will  admit.  This  curious  scene  we  repeatedly  wit¬ 
nessed  in  our  passage  along  the  canal  and  up  the  Nile.  The 
Arabs  are  almost  amphibious  creatures ;  and  whether  toiling 
in  the  burning  sun,  or  immersed  to  their  chins  in  water,  seem 
to  be  utterly  regardless  of  personal  inconvenience. 

After  we  had  proceeded  nearly  half  way  to  Atfeh,  news 
was  brought  that  Mehemet  Ali,  the  Pasha  of  Egypt,  was  on 
his  way  from  Cairo  to  Alexandria.  In  consequence  of  this, 
it  was  feared  that  our  boat  might  be  enlisted  in  his  highness’s 
service.  After  having  continued  our  route  for  another  hour 
or  so,  we  descried  an  encampment  on  the  bank  of  the  canal, 
which  consisted  of  the  attendants  of  the  great  man ;  and  on 
stepping  ashore,  we  learnt  that  the  far-famed  u  Lion”  of 
Egypt  was  resting  at  a  small  farm-house  to  dine.  It  was  not 
long  before  our  boat  was  required ;  and  it  became  necessary 
for  us  to  get  the  baggage,  &c.  unloaded,  to  be  taken  on  to 
Atfeh  in  the  best  way  it  might ;  while  we  ourselves  were  left 
to  proceed  in  any  small  craft  that  could  be  procured.  All 


MEHEMET  ALI. 


8. 


this  was  inconvenient  enough ;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it. 
The  first  intention  was  that  the  baggage  should  be  sent  on  by 
camels,  of  which  there  were  some  at  hand.  But,  alas !  tire 
Pasha  had  pressed  every  one  into  his  service.  However,  by 
a  little  dexterity  and  management,  camels  sufficient  for  out 
purpose  were  secured,  after  a  wild  scene  of  Arab  violence  and 
uproar,  in  which  there  is  always  more  sound  than  danger. 
A  small  latteen-sailed  boat  was  obtained  after  we  had  walked 
on  for  some  distance,  just  sufficient  to  convey  us  and  our 
attendants. 

We  had  a  full  view  of  Mehemet  Ali  as  he  sat  at  dinner, 
and  while  he  was  enjoying  his  chibouk,  attended  by  his 
retinue ;  and  afterwards,  when  he  came  from  the  farm-house, 
and  mounted  his  white  mule,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  pos¬ 
session  of  our  boat,  we  were  enabled  to  form  a  tolerably  accu¬ 
rate  notion  of  his  person.  He  is  a  most  remarkable  man, 
and  realized  all  we  had  heard  about  him.  He  is  now  past 
seventy,  with  a  hale,  firm,  and  determined  countenance,  and 
venerable  white  beard.  Seeing  two  Europeans  near  him,  as 
he  hastily  passed  by,  he  glanced  a  very  peculiar,  but  not 
unfriendly  glance  upon  us  ;  acknowledged  slightly  our  bows, 
made  some  passing  observations  to  his  nearest  attendants, 
with  an  evident  reference  to  us,  and  in  another  minute  was 
mounted  on  his  mule.  His  highness’s  pipe-bearer  and  coffee- 
bearer,  his  silver  washhand  bason  and  towel-bearer,  secretary 
and  interpreter,  all,  were  in  immediate  attendance  upon  him. 
The  scene  was  very  interesting  and  very  oriental.  Here  was 
perhaps  almost  the  wonder  of  the  age — the  soldier  of  fortune, 
who  had  risen  from  the  humblest  rank  in  the  Turkish  army — 
now  the  powerful  despot  of  Egypt,  with  almost  patriarchal 
simplicity,  taking  his  homely  mid-day  meal  at  a  small  farm¬ 
house,  and  departing  as  ancient  despots  used,  surrounded  by 
slaves,  camels,  dromedaries,  &c.  &c. 

I  shall  not  easily  lose  the  impression  made  on  my  mind  by 
this  glance  at  Mehemet  Ali.  Had  he  reached  Alexandria 
before  our  departure,  we  should  have  been  presented  to  him 
And  even  on  this  occasion,  it  might  have  been  practicable 


83 


ATFEII - THE  NILE. 


but  we  thought,  willing  as  he  is  to  receive  Europeans,  it 
might  be  then  deemed  intrusive  ;  so  we  suffered  the  opportu 
nity  to  pass. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o’clock  in  the  evening,  and  very  dark 
with  the  exception  of  the  light  afforded  by  numberless  stars, 
when  we  came  to  shore,  within  about  two  miles  of  Atfeh 
where  the  canal  joins  the  Nile.  On  landing,  we  found  a 
supply  of  camels  to  take  our  baggage,  and  saddled  donkeys 
for  riding.  It  was  a  strange  and  primitive  scene.  Camels 
were  gurgling  and  grunting  in  a  loud  strain — donkeys  were 
keeping  up  a  perpetual  braying — while  Arab  tongues,  some 
hoarse  and  shouting — some  shrill  and  screaming — others 
sputtering  their  exclamations  of  anger  and  eagerness,  made 
up  a  Babel  of  strange  sounds.  At  length,  all  the  baggage 
was  loaded — donkeys  were  mounted  by  our  whole  party,  and 
a  goodly  number  of  lanterns  lighted  ;  and  we  set  out,  over  a 
rough,  hilly,  and  uneven  road,  along  which  we  were  obliged 
to  trust  entirely  to  our  sure-footed  animals.  We  seemed  to 
be  a  tediously  long  time  in  getting  over  the  two  miles  ;  but 
at  last  arrived  safely  at  Atfeh,  where  we  stayed  for  the  nighty 
at  a  miserable  kind  of  half-European  hotel,  swarming  with 
animalculae,  under  promise  of  being  furnished  at  an  early 
hour  in  the  morning,  with  a  suitable  Nile-boat  and  crew,  to 
lake  us  up  to  Cairo.  We  partook  of  a  coarse,  homely  supper 
— such  as  an  Englishman  would,  under  ordinary  circum¬ 
stances,  make  a  dead  pause  at,  and  soon  fell  asleep  after  the 
fatigues  of  an  exhausting  day.  Mercy  and  goodness  had  fol¬ 
lowed  us  thus  far  ;  and  my  heart  was  lifted  up  in  praise  and 
thanksgiving. 

Many  an  interesting  thought  and  feeling  passed  through 
my  mind,  when,  in  the  light  of  the  early  morning,  I  first  be¬ 
held  the  waters  of  the  ancient  Nile  sparkling  before  me.  I 
thought  of  the  miraculous  transaction  of  which  this  very 
river  was,  doubtless,  the  scene,  as  recorded  in  Exodus  vii.  15 
— 21:  “Get  thee  unto  Pharaoh  in  the  morning;  lo,  he 
goeth  out  unto  the  water;  and  thou  shalt  stand  by  the 
river’s  brink  against  he  come  ;  and  the  rod  which  was  turned 


THE  NILE. 


83 


to  a  serpent  shalt  thou  take  in  thine  hand.  And  thou  shal 
say  unto  him,  the  Lord  God  of  the  Hebrews  hath  sent  me 
unto  thee,  saying-,  let  my  people  go,  that  they  may  serve  me  in 
the  wilderness  ;  and,  behold,  hitherto  thou  wouldst  not  hear. 
Thus  saith  the  Lord,  in  this  thou  shalt  know  that  I  am  the 
Lord :  behold,  I  will  smite  with  the  rod  that  is  in  mine  hand 
upon  the  waters  which  are  in  the  river,  and  they  shall  be 
turned  to  blood.  And  the  fish  that  is  in  the  river  shall  die. 
and  the  river  shall  stink  ;  and  the  Egyptians  shall  loath  to 
drink  of  the  water  of  the  river.  *  *  *  And  Moses 

and  Aaron  did  so  as  the  Lord  commanded ;  and  he  lifted  up 
the  rod,  and  smote  the  waters  that  were  in  the  river,  in  the 
sight  of  Pharaoh,  and  in  the  sight  of  his  servants ;  and  all 
the  waters  that  were  in  the  river  were  turned  to  blood.  And 
the  fish  that  was  in  the  river  died  ;  and  the  river  stank ;  and 
the  Egyptians  could  not  drink  of  the  water  of  the  river ; 
and  there  was  blood  throughout  all  the  land  of  Egypt.” 

The  Nile  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  objects  of  natural 
history,  in  addition  to  those  associations  of  idea  which  Scrip* 
ture  affords  in  reference  to  it.  It  is  the  noblest  river  of  the 
old  world.  For  the  immense  distance  of  one  thousand  three 
hundred  and  fifty  nautical  miles  (that  is,  from  Ilak  in  Nubia, 
where  the  Nile  is  joined  by  the  river  Takazze),  it  rolls  on  to 
its  mouths  in  the  Mediterranean,  without  receiving  one  tribu¬ 
tary  stream  ;  “  an  unexampled  instance,”  as  Humboldt  has 
remarked,  “  in  the  hydrographic  history  of  the  globe.”  It  is 
to  this  noble  river  that  Egypt  owes  its  fertility,  and  probably 
its  existence. 

The  Nile  is  well  known  to  be  remarkable  for  an  annual 
overflow  of  its  waters  to  a  vast  extent ;  and  affords  one  of  the 
most  striking  instances  of  providential  provision  for  further¬ 
ing  the  process  of  vegetation.  Various  theories  of  this  phe¬ 
nomenon  have  been  proposed  by  numerous  writers,  from 
Homer  and  Plerodotus  downwards  ;  and  various  accounts  also 
have  been  given  of  the  process  of  inundation.  The  follow¬ 
ing  observations  of  Bruce  are  interesting  and  valuable.  He 
remarks : — “  The  air  is  so  much  rarefied  by  the  sun,  during 


84 


TIIE  NILE. 


the  time  he  remains  almost  stationary  over  the  tropic  of  Cap¬ 
ricorn,  that  the  winds,  loaded  with  vapors,  rush  in  upon  the 
land  from  the  Atlantic  ocean  on  the  west,  the  Indian  ocean  on 
the  east,  and  the  cold  southern  ocean  beyond  the  Cape.  Thus, 
a  great  quantity  of  vapor  is  gathered,  as  it  were,  into  a  focus^ 
and  as  the  same  causes  continue  to  operate  during  the  prog 
ress  of  the  sun  northward,  a  vast  train  of  clouds  proceeds  from 
south  to  north,  which  are  sometimes  extended  much  further 
than  at  other  times.  In  April,  all  the  rivers  in  the  south  of 
Abyssinia  begin  to  swell ;  in  the  beginning  of  June  they  are 
all  full,  and  continue  so  while  the  sun  remains  stationary  in 
the  tropic  of  Cancer.  This  excessive  rain,  which  would 
sweep  off  the  whole  soil  of  Egypt  into  the  sea,  were  it  to  con 
tinue  without  intermission,  begins  to  abate  as  the  sun  turns 
southward  ;  and  on  his  arrival  at  the  zenith  of  each  place,  on 
his  passage  towards  that  quarter,  they  cease  entirely.  Imme 
diately  after  the  sun  has  passed  the  line,  he  begins  the  rainy 
season  to  the  southward.  The  rise  of  the  Nile  at  Cairo  does 
not  commence  till  June  ;  the  green  color,  produced  either  by 
the  influx  of  corrupt  or  stagnant  waters,  or  by  the  action  of 
the  hot  south  winds  on  the  sluggish  stream,  appearing  about 
the  twelfth  of  that  month.  The  red  appearance,  occasioned 
by  the  arrival  of  the  Abyssinian  waters,  takes  place  early  in 
July,  from  which  the  rise  of  the  river  may  perfectly  be  dated, 
as  it  then  begins  to  increase  rapidly.  By  the  middle  of  Au¬ 
gust  it  reaches  half  its  greatest  height,  and  it  attains  its  max¬ 
imum  towards  the  end  of  September.  From  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  that  month,  the  waters  are  supposed  to  decline,  but 
maintain  nearly  the  same  level  till  the  middle  of  October. 
By  the  tenth  of  November,  they  have  sunk  about  half,  and 
from  that  period  continue  to  subside  very  slowly  till  they 
reach  their  minimum  in  April.  The  regularity  with  which 
these  phenomena  occur,  will  appear  the  more  remarkable, 
when  taken  in  connection  with  all  the  circumstances  which 
distinguish  this  wonderful  stream.” 

The  swell  of  the  river  varies  in  different  parts  of  the  chan¬ 
nel.  In  Upper  Egypt,  it  is  from  thirty  to  thirty-five  feet.  At 


THE  NILE. 


85 


Cairo,  it  is  about  twenty-five  feet;  whilst  in  the  northern 
part  of  the  Delta,  it  does  not  exceed  four  feet ;  which  is  owing 
to  the  artificial  channels  and  the  breadth  of  the  inundation  ; 
yet  the  four  feet  of  increase  is  as  necessary  to  the  fertility  of 
the  Delta,  as  the  twenty-three  or  thirty  feet  elsewhere.  Very 
little  rain  ever  falls  in  Egypt — and  in  Upper  Egypt  is  scarce¬ 
ly  known.  In  Lower  Egypt,  a  very  slight  and  almost 
momentary  shower  is  all  that  is  ever  experienced,  even  during 
the  cool  part  of  the  year.  Therefore  the  irrigation  which  the 
land  receives  through  the  direct  overflow  of  the  Nile,  and  by 
means  of  the  canals  which  convey  its  waters  where  the  inun¬ 
dation  does  not  directly  extend,  is  quite  essential  to  that 
fertility  for  which  Egypt  has  at  all  times  been  proverbial. 
The  inhabitants  of  Egypt  have,  with  great  labor,  cut  a  vast 
number  of  canals  and  trenches,  through  the  whole  extent  of 
the  land.  These  canals  are  not  opened  until  the  river  has 
attained  a  certain  height,  nor  yet  all  at  the  same  time,  as  the 
distribution  of  the  water  -would  then  be  unequal.  The  sluices 
are  closed  when  the  waters  begin  to  subside,  and  are  gradu¬ 
ally  opened  again  in  the  autumn,  allowing  the  waters  to  pass 
on  to  contribute  to  the  irrigation  of  the  Delta. 

We  have,  in  all  the  details  of  the  annual  inundation  of  this 
river,  a  striking  exemplification  of  the  providence  of  God. 
The  fertility  of  the  country  depends  upon  the  waters  reaching 
a  certain  medium  ;  for,  if  theyT  do  not  rise  to  a  certain  mini¬ 
mum,  famine  is  the  result ;  and  if  they  exceed  a  certain 
maximum,  consequences  scarcely  less  calamitous  result — 
whole  villages  are  then  liable  to  be  swept  away,  with  all  the 
corn,  cattle,  and  inhabitants.  The  waters,  however,  usually 
reach  this  medium,  which  is  higher  or  lower  in  different  parts 
of  the  country,  according  as  those  parts  are  visited  with  less 
or  more  copious  supplies  of  rain  ;  the  rise  is  so  regular,  that 
it  may  be  calculated  upon  within  a  very  few  days  of  its  taking 
place  ;  and  yet  the  actual  cause  of  it  exists  at  least  two  thou¬ 
sand  miles  from  some  of  the  parts  where  it  is  experienced.  It 
is  no  wonder  that  the  Egyptians,  looking  no  further  than  tc 

8 


86 


THE  NILE — BOAT-CREW. 


the  river  itself  for  the  source  of  all  their  natural  blessings, 
should  deify  and  worship  it.* 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  thirtieth  of  April,  our  Nile- 
boat  was  ready,  the  baggage  on  board,  and  soon  we  were  on 
the  broad  bosom  of  the  ancient  river.  Aft,  upon  the  deck, 
we  had  a  snug  little  cabin,  with  windows  on  each  side :  no 
beds,  but  a  dewan,  or  raised  and  cushioned  seat  all  round — 
just  enough  to  afford  convenience  forstretching  out  our  limbs 
during  the  nights  we  were  destined  to  spend  on  board.  Our 
crew  consisted  of  the  Reis  or  captain,  a  fine  dark  complex- 
ioned  Arab,  in  his  white  turban  and  white  tunic ;  a  pilot  of 
the  same  caste  ;  eight  sailors,  six  of  them  Arabs,  and  the 
remainder  Abyssinians.  The  latter  were  finely  formed  men, 
and  as  black  as  ebony.  Besides  the  crew,  we  had  Ahmet,  a 
Copt,  with  a  face  like  the  sphynx,  as  our  cook  ;  and  Ali 
Mahommed,  a  clever,  intelligent  Arab  (speaking  a  little  Eng¬ 
lish  and  more  Italian),  as  our  butler,  valet,  footman,  &c. — all 
in  one  !  Our  first  meal,  on  the  Nile,  was  breakfast :  an 
amusing  affair — of  boiled  meat,  eggs,  bread,  buffalo’s  butter, 
and  coflee,  served  up  on  a  towel  for  a  table-cloth. 

We  made  way  tolerably  well,  till  towards  the  evening, 
when  the  wind  tacked  against  us,  and  it  was  in  vain  to  at¬ 
tempt  progress.  We  laid  by  therefore  patiently,  in  hope  of 
one  of  those  sudden  changes  which  are  so  common  on  the 
Nile,  and  of  which  we  afterwards  had  frequent  experience. 
Soon  after  midnight,  the  wind  turned  in  our  favor,  and  we 
made  way  most  successfully.  The  noble  river  lay  like  a 
surface  of  glass  around  us  ;  and  the  recently  risen  moon  cast 
a  lovely  path  of  rays  across  the  wide  expanse ;  while  our 
winged  bark  glided  onwards  amidst  others  of  its  kind,  like 
objects  in  a  dream.  The  grasshoppers  were  chirping  their 
roundelay  on  the  distant  banks,  and  all  our  Arabs,  except 
three,  lay  along  on  the  deck,  reposing  after  the  labors  of  the 
day.  The  night  was  so  lovely  that  it  banished  sleep  from 
my  eyelids.  The  silence  of  the  scene  was  indescribable  ; 
and  I  felt  too,  I  was  in  the  region  of  wonder  and  august 

*  See  Bible  Cyclopaedia. 


THE  NILE. 


8? 


recollection  ;  in  the  land  to  which  the  tender  babe  of  Bethle¬ 
hem  was  transported  by  night  in  obedience  to  a  divine  com¬ 
mand,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  tyrant  Herod.  It  might  have 
been  such  a  night  as  this ;  and  this  very  moon  perhaps  en 
lightened  the  pathway  of  its  incarnate  Creator.  I  remem¬ 
bered,  moreover,  that  I  was  in  the  land  over  which  Joseph  ruled, 
and  in  which  he  glorified  the  God  of  Israel ;  where  Israel 
groaned  under  cruel  taskmasters  ;  where  Jehovah  called  forth 
his  distinguished  servants,  Moses  and  Aaron,  to  their  arduous 
work,  and  stretched  forth  his  hand  in  marvellous  and  miracu¬ 
lous  ministration,  on  behalf  of  a  people  whom  he  had  chosen 
for  himself,  and  bound  to  him  by  a  lasting  covenant. 

If  the  loveliness  of  the  night,  and  the  current  of  thoughts 
in  my  mind  had  not  kept  me  wakeful,  I  certainly  should 
have  been  deprived  of  rest,  by  the  swarms  of  vermin  which 
broke  loose  upon  me,  when  I  lay  down  on  the  dewan.  I 
found  it  quite  useless  to  close  my  eyes,  so  I  sat  on  deck, 
watching  for  the  dawning  of  May-day.  It  was  a  bright 
dawning  indeed,  and  the  morning  air  was  so  bland  and  soft, 
there  seemed  to  be  health  and  restoration  in  it.  The  day 
passed  delightfully,  and  we  made  steady  way,  with  the  almost 
level  sandy  banks  of  the  river  about  us,  seldom  relieved  even 
by  a  palm  tree. 

For  the  sake  of  those  who  are  curious  about  such  matters, 
I  may  mention  that  we  had  for  our  dinner — even  on  the  Nile, 
a  deliciously  dressed  curry,  and  some  other  very  pleasant  con¬ 
trivances,  in  which  Ahmet  was  well  skilled  ;  and  I  profess 
the  whole  affair  would  have  done  credit  to  a  more  distin¬ 
guished  cuisine  than  ours,  which  occupied  a  few  reserved 
square  feet  on  the  open  deck,  on  which  was  erected  a  very 
primitive  charcoal  stove,  consisting  of  a  layer  or  foundation 
of  a  few  bricks,  surmounted  by  a  kind  of  large  oval  bason, 
of  burnt  clay,  into  which  ignited  charcoal  was  laid.  Upon 
this,  the  boiling  apparatus  was  placed — one  vessel  serving  in 
its  way,  for  many  purposes,  by  the  time  dinner  was  served. 
On  one  occasion,  a  squall  of  wind  made  the  boat  suddenly 
lurch,  so  as  to  throw  our  boiling  pot  off  the  fire ;  and  nearly 


88 


THE  NILE - SHUBRA. 


sent  it  and  its  contents — a  promising  pair  of  chickens — into 
the  river;  and  actually  cast  overboard,  irretrievably,  the 
whole  supply  of  sailor’s  bread,  stowed  in  a  barrel :  so  that  we 
had  to  share  ours  with  the  crew,  till  we  touched  at  a  village 
and  obtained  fresh  supplies. 

We  continued  to  make  way  as  favorably  as  could  be  ex¬ 
pected,  on  a  river  which  is  subject  to  the  most  capricious 
chan o-es  of  wind.  Sometimes  we  sailed — sometimes  the  crew 

O 

leapt  overboard,  and  bound  the  towing  ropes  about  them — 
rushing  up  the  banks  and  over  the  heights  with  the  wildest 
alacrity  imaginable.  Again  and  again,  we  came  to  a  dead 
stand,  when  sailing  and  towing  were  alike  impracticable. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  of  May,  I  was  awakened 
early,  after  a  few  hours’  repose  in  spite  of  my  industrious  ene¬ 
mies  in  the  cabin,  and  hastened  to  wash  sleep  from  my  eye¬ 
lids,  in  the  soft  and  refreshing  waters  of  the  Nile.  It  was  a 
lovely  morning ;  and  Ali  cheered  me  by  the  promise,  that 
soon  my  eyes  would  rest  upon  a  distant  view  of  the  Pyramids 
of  Ghiseh.  We  were,  at  this  time,  just  within  sight  of  Shu- 
bra — the  palace  and  gardens  of  Mehemet  Ali.  The  appear¬ 
ance  of  this  royal  residence,  from  the  Nile,  is  anything  but 
pleasing  :  and  presents  but  little  shew  of  state.  It  is  quite  a 
departure  from  the  Saracenic  architecture,  so  common  in 
Cairo ;  and  a  most  apologetic  attempt  at  the  modern  villa. 
The  Pacha  has  rather  a  taste  for  European  design  ;  and  yet 
cannot  quite  tear  himself  away  from  the  oriental.  This  royal 
retreat  is  several  miles  from  Cairo,  and  is  the  usual  residence 
of  Mehemet  Ali,  rather  than  the  citadel,  in  which  his  murder 
of  the  Mamelukes  was  perpetrated.  Perhaps  there  are 
gloomy  associations  of  idea  connected  with  the  latter,  which 
would  on  all  accounts  render  it  no  very  pleasant  residence, 
should  his  conscience  at  any  time  awaken  upon  him. 

Leaving  Sliubra  on  the  left,  we  descried  the  distant  mina¬ 
rets  of  Boulakh — the  port  of  Cairo;  and,  standing  on  the 
deck,  l  caught  the  first  glance  of  part  of  Gebel  Mokattum, 
and  the  Pyramids  of  Ghiseh — those  mysterious  monuments  of 
a  far-gone  day.  To  the  mind  that  has  always  associated  an 


THE  NILE - PYRAMIDS - BOULAKII. 


89 


idea  of  vastness  with  that  of  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  their 
first  appearance  is  very  unsatisfactory.  The  clearness  of  the 
atmosphere  has  the  effect  of  seemingly  presenting  distant  ob¬ 
jects  at  an  unreal  point  of  nearness — which  of  course  serious¬ 
ly  affects  our  ideas  of  magnitude.  Certainly  the  expanse  of 
level  country  which  lay  between  the  low  bank  of  the  Nile 
and  the  Pyramids,  with  here  and  there  groves  of  palm  scat¬ 
tered  about,  gave  a  distinct  notion  of  the  distance,  which  the 
atmosphere  seemed  to  deny ;  and  far  away  stood  the  venera¬ 
ble  structures  of  hoar  antiquity,  appearing  like  small  white 
hills  or  rocks,  carefully  cut  down  into  the  pyramidal  shape. 
However,  as  our  intended  stay  at  Cairo  gave  promise  of  a 
nearer  view  of  them,  I  was  content  to  wait  patiently  for  a  dif¬ 
ferent  impression.  By  a  bend  in  the  river,  I  soon  lost  sight 
of  these  remarkable  monuments,  and  there  lay  Boulakh;  and 
beyond  it,  as  if  in  continuation,  Cairo — Grand  Cairo  itself, 
the  city  of  the  Khalifs,  with  its  minarets,  domes,  and  towers, 
and  occasional  clumps  of  palm  trees,  waving  in  the  slightly 
moving  breeze.  Our  voyage  on  the  Nile  terminated  at  Bou¬ 
lakh,  where  the  boat  was  soon  moored — the  baggage  disem¬ 
barked,  and  our  “  backsheech ,”  distributed  among  the  truly 
civil  and  well-conducted  crew,  who  quitted  us  with  smiling 
courtesy  ana  salaams.  Some  time  before  we  set  foot  on  shore, 
we  were  half  deafened  by  the  uproarious  cries  of  Arab  throats 
of  all  calibres,  amongst  whom  was  a  wordy  strife  as  to  who 
should  have  the  honor  of  conducting  us  and  our  possessions 
to  Cairo.  In  the  midst  of  this  scene  it  was  amusing  enough 
to  see  Ali  laying  about  him  on  all  shoulders  with  his  cane — 
picking,  choosing,  and  ordering  with  as  much  importance,  as 
if  he  were  the  great  man  of  the  Pacha  himself.  Donkeys 
and  mules  enough  were  soon  selected  ;  the  baggage  fairly 
stowed  on  the  latter,  and  we  ourselves  mounted  on  the  form¬ 
er  ;  and  then  began  our  procession,  at  the  head  of  which  rode 
Ali  Mahommed,  dressed  in  his  smartest  attire,  in  which  scar¬ 
let  and  white  predominated,  with  a  long  bamboo  in  his  hand, 
cutting  a  clear  path  for  us  through  the  moving  masses  of  ori¬ 
entals  by  whom  we  were  surrounded.  He  dealt  his  blows 

8* 


90 


GRAND  CAIRO. 


right  and  left,  both  upon  man  and  beast ;  and  while  I  ex 
pected  that  suddenly  some  resentful  spirit  would  return  the 
compliment,  perhaps  with  interest,  every  one  seemed  tacitly 
to  admit  the  persuasiveness  of  the  appeal,  and  permitted  us  to 
pass  on  without  interruption.  The  scene  was  half  comic, 
half  grave  ;  and  every  object  which  presented  itself — the  dry, 
sandy  soil,  the  domed  and  minareted  masses  of  Saracenic 
building — the  occasional  palm  trees,  and  the  deep  blue  sky, 
warmed  and  glowing  towards  the  horizon,  presenting  a  recol¬ 
lection  of  those  day-dreams  which  one  had  conceived  in  earlier 
years ;  while  Arabs,  Turks,  Copts,  Jews,  and  Dervishes — in 
all  the  varieties  of  eastern  costume,  lent  their  aid  to  make  the 
picture  complete.  Following  our  leader,  and  winding  through 
narrow,  overhung  streets,  and  crossing  open  spaces,  we  soon 
reached  the  European  Hotel,  where  we  had  determined  to 
reside  while  making  preparations  for  the  Desert  route. 

The  population  of  Cairo,  the  greater  part  of  which  is  gene¬ 
rally  visible  out  of  doors,  appears  redundant.  It  is  estimated 
at  about  two  hundred  and  twenty  thousand,  including  Copts, 
Jews,  Turks,  and  Egyptian  Moslems.  The  streets  of  the 
city  are  for  the  most  part  exceedingly  narrow,  particularly 
those  which  are  occupied  by  bazaars  ;  where  the  mingled 
odor  of  fruits,  tobacco,  and  various  other  articles  of  merchan¬ 
dise  is  anything  but  grateful.  It  requires  great  tact  and  heed 
fulness  to  make  way  in  the  streets,  especially  if  on  foot.  The 
very  easiest  tiling  imaginable,  is  to  get  one’s  toes  crushed  by 
the  foot  of  a  barb,  or  to  be  scampered  over  by  donkeys  in  full 
canter,  urged  on  by  their  shouting  drivers ;  or  quietly  walked 
down  by  a  camel,  with  his  dreamy  step,  and  his  nose  in  the 
air.  Every  body  seems  to  be  in  everybody’s  way;  and  yet 
all  escape  wonderfully.  In  Cairo,  as  in  all  other  oriental 
towns,  multitudes  of  wolf-like  dogs  lie  about  the  streets — not 
only  in  safe  corners,  but  in  the  most  frequented  ways;  and  it 
is  a  matter  of  the  greatest  difficulty  to  arouse  them  from  theii 
half  repose.  The  horses,  asses,  and  camels,  are  accustomed 
to  this,  and  step  most  cautiously  to  avoid  crushing  them. 
Vast  as  is  the  number  of  wild  and  homeless  dogs,  and  intense 


GRAND  CAIRO. 


91 


a*,  vis¬ 
as  the  heat  may  sometimes  be,  yet  canine  madness  never  pre¬ 
vails;  and  not  the  slightest  fear  is  ever  manifested  by  the 
crowding  passengers  in  the  streets,  though  the  dogs  appear  to 
be  of  the  most  ferocious  kind.  At  night,  their  howling  and 
barking  is  quite  distressing,  and  effectually  banishes  sleep 
from  all  who  have  the  least  tendency  to  be  wakeful.  Dogs 
are  the  only  scavengers  in  oriental  towns. 

If  it  were  one’s  disposition  to  mention  annoyances,  a  long 
catalogue  might  soon  be  formed,  of  those  which  prevail  in 
Egypt,  and  especially  in  Cairo,  its  grand  capital.  The 
u  plague  of  flies”  which  we  experienced,  was  no  trifling  mat¬ 
ter  ;  and  so  great  were  the  numbers  of  these  creatures,  that  at 
meal  times  we  required  to  have  persons  continually  waving 
flappers,  made  of  the  leaves  of  the  palm  tree,  in  order  to  eat 
in  peace.  At  night,  the  plague  of  musquitoes  was  terrible, 
notwithstanding  the  usual  precaution  of  musquito-curtains. 
After  repeated  attacks  of  these  insects,  I  found  my  hands 
severely  ulcerated,  and  so  swollen  that  I  could  scarcely  draw 
on  my  gloves.  The  Arabs  ascribed  this  affection  to  the  water 
of  the  Nile,  which  in  Cairo  is  used  for  all  purposes.  They 
have  no  other.  Many  cutaneous  disorders  are  said  to  be  the 
effect  of  the  same  cause.  The  Nile  water  is  delicious  for 
drinking,  when  properly  filtered.  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke  remarks, 
that  however  carefully  the  Nile  water  may  be  purified,  by 
rubbing  the  interior  of  the  water-vessels  with  bruised  almonds, 
which  precipitates  the  mud,  yet  then  it  is  never  quite  clear. 
[  have,  however,  in  my  possession,  a  small  bottle  of  Nile 
water,  which  accompanied  me  in  all  my  route,  and  it  even 
now  has  the  appearance  of  the  clearest  crystal.  Upon  analy¬ 
sis,  the  Nile  water  has  been  found  to  contain  the  carbonates 
of  magnesia,  lime,  and  iron  ;  the  muriate  of  soda  ;  and  a  small 
portion  of  silex  and  alumine. 

To  walk  through  the  streets  of  Cairo,  one  would  imagine 
that  externally  it  had  undergone  no  change  for  ages.  It  has 
the  air  of  a  primitive  place,  both  in  regard  to  its  architecture 
and  its  inhabitants.  The  upper  stories  of  the  houses  project 
so  much,  that  the  occupiers  might  almost  step  from  one  to  the 


92 


GRAND  CAIRO - RHODA  ISLAND. 


other.  But  then,  this  helps  to  keep  the  streets  cool,  by  shut¬ 
ting  out  the  intense  lieat  of  the  vertical  sun.  Though  crowd- 
ed  by  an  incessantly  moving-  population,  the  streets  seldom 
have  the  feel  of  suffocating  heat.  The  windows  of  the  houses 
have,  for  the  most  part,  no  glass,  but  consist  of  wooden  lattice- 
work,  often  richly  carved  and  ornamented,  projecting  some¬ 
what  like  small  oriel  windows  in  Gothic  architecture.  This 
too,  gives  a  complete  idea  of  coolness  and  comfort.  The 
houses  themselves  are  chiefly  Saracenic,  built  of  very  solid 
masonry,  in  large  massive  blocks  of  stone  ;  and  often  the 
doors,  or  main  entrances,  are  much  enriched  with  carved 
work.  The  principal  houses  are  quadrangular  ;  and  a  spa¬ 
cious  court,  open  at  the  top,  affords  communication  to  every 
part  of  the  habitation.* 

One  of  our  first  expeditions  in  Cairo,  was  to  the  gardens 
of  Ibrahim  Pacha,  the  son  of  Mehemet  Ali — occupying  a 
considerable  part  of  Rhoda  Island,  on  the  bank  of  which,  as 
asserted  by  almost  undisputed  tradition,  the  child  Moses  was 
found,  by  Pharaoh’s  daughter.  From  this  spot,  a  very  stri¬ 
king  and  picturesque  view  of  Cairo  is  obtained ;  and  all  was 
rendered  very  animating  on  account  of  a  festal  season,  during 
which,  it  is  customary  for  the  gardens  of  Rhoda  Island  to  be 
thrown  open  to  the  public.  A  vast  assemblage  of  people,  of 
all  classes,  were  thronging  about — some  in  parties  seated  in 
circles,  under  the  shade  of  spreading  trees,  laughing,  jesting — 
smoking ;  while  others  were  pacing  along  in  slow  and  stately 
march,  from  avenue  to  avenue,  in  all  the  glitter  and  color  of 
orientalism.  The  greatest  decorum  prevailed ;  and  it  was 
pleasant  to  see  that  neither  leaf  nor  flower  suffered  violence 
at  the  hands  of  the  numerous  visitors.  The  gardens  are  very 
extensive  ;  and  are  laid  out,  partly  in  European  and  partly  in 
oriental  taste ;  and  irrigation  is  carefully  provided  for  by  the 
digging  of  small  canals  or  trenches,  which  are  kept  well  sup- 

*  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke  remarks,  on  the  authority  of  Denon,  that  “the  taste 
shown  in  decorating  their  apartments,  is  of  the  kind  called  Arabesque:  this, 
although  early  introduced  into  England  from  the  East,  is  not  Saracenical, 
but  Egyptian.  It  is  a  style  which  the  Greeks  themselves  adopted  ;  and  it 
was  received  among  the  Romans  in  the  time  of  Augustus.” 


GRAND  CAIRO - BATH. 


93 


plied  with  water.  The  trees,  of  various  kinds — some  native 
and  others  foreign,  appeared  to  thrive  remarkably  well.  The 
pomegranates  were  full  of  their  richly  tinted  blossoms.  The 
roses,  among  which  there  was  but  little  variety,  were  mostly 
fading  away,  having  already  enjoyed  their  blossoming  time. 
The  climate  was  delightful,  and  added  much  to  the  charm  of 
a  scene  so  novel  and  picturesque. 

Among  the  luxurious  comforts  of  Cairo,  the  public  baths 
claim  pre-eminence.  They  are  resorted  to  by  all  classes — • 
frequent  ablutions  of  the  person  forming  part,  and  a  prominent 
part  too,  of  the  external  ceremonies  of  Mahommedanism. 
Perhaps  nothing  more  refreshing  can  be  conceived  of  in  a 
warm  climate,  than  the  Egyptian  or  Turkish  tepid  bath. 
Some  of  my  readers  may  be  amused  by  a  description  of  the 
process  attending  it.  On  entering  the  bath  house,  you  are 
conducted  to  a  spacious  outer  room,  fitted  all  round  with 
dewans,  raised  about  two  feet  from  the  floor.  Seated  on  one 
of  these,  you  prepare  for  the  bath  ;  and  when  about  to  remove 
the  last  articles  of  dress,  one  of  the  bathers  approaches  you — 
generally  a  strong  and  powerful  Arab — and  wraps  you  round 
in  the  folds  of  a  piece  of  dry  linen,  something  like  a  small 
sheet.  He  then  presents  you  with  a  pair  of  clogs,  with 
wooden  soles ;  in  which,  when  you  have  inserted  your  feet, 
he  supports  and  leads  you  over  slippery  marble  floors,  to  an 
inner  room  also  paved  and  fitted  up  with  marble,  in  the  middle 
of  which  is  a  large  tank  or  reservoir  of  hot  water,  and  into 
which  a  stream  is  continually  flowing.  The  temperature  of 
the  inner  room  is  high,  and  Kearny — well  calculated  to  occa¬ 
sion  faintness  in  those  who  are  not  very  strong.  You  are 
now  quite  in  the  power  of  the  bather,  who  places  you  in  a 
recumbent  posture  on  the  marble  floor,  just  at  the  brink  of  the 
reservoir,  and  begins  rubbing  the  face,  beard  and  head  with 
palm  soap ;  and  if  shaving  be  needful,  he  performs  that  opera¬ 
tion  first.  The  body  is  then  rubbed  all  over,  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  or  so,  with  the  hands,  upon  which  are  gloves,  with  a 
very  rough  surface,  made  of  camel’s  hair,  and  saturated  with 
palm  soap.  You  are  next  seated  on  the  marble  floor,  wrhen 


94 


GRAND  CAIRO - BATH. 


the  bather  kneels  behind  you  ;  and,  grasping  you  in  his 
arms,  and  placing  his  knee  firmly  against  your  loins,  stretches 
the  vertebrae  of  the  back.  Next,  by  a  dextrous  movement, 
he  passes  his  arm  over  your  shoulders — folds  your  arms  back¬ 
wards,  and  stretches  the  shoulder  blades  as  much  as  they  will 
comfortably  bear.  Then,  continuing  the  friction  of  the  body 
a  little  longer,  he  bids  you  step  into  the  tank,  at  a  tempera¬ 
ture  of  nearly  one  hundred,  where  you  remain  up  to  the  chin 
for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  You  are  then  made  to 
recline  again  upon  the  brink,  when  the  body  is  once  more 
gently  rubbed  over  with  palm  soap,  and  you  are  sent  into  the 
tank  for  five  minutes  more.  As  soon  as  you  step  out  of  it, 
the  bather  envelopes  you  in  folds  of  dry  linen,  and  binds  also 
a  bandage  of  the  same  about  the  head ;  and  thus,  swathed 
from  head  to  foot,  you  are  led  back  to  the  outer  room,  and 
placed  in  a  reclining  posture  on  the  dewan,  where  you  at  first 
undressed,  and  a  shesheh  or  a  chibouk,  with  a  cup  of  coffee, 
are  immediately  served,  while  the  remainder  of  the  operation 
is  effected.  The  sedative  effect  of  the  mild  tobacco  and  coffee 
is  very  agreeable  after  the  bath.  The  remaining  process  con¬ 
sists  in  first  kneading  the  muscles  of  the  body  and  limbs, 
with  the  strong  and  practised  hands  of  the  bathers,  for  about 
ten  minutes.  Next  the  soles  of  the  feet  are  rubbed  gently 
with  the  hand,  and  then  with  a  rough  brush.  Then  the 
palms  of  the  hands  are  rubbed  in  the  same  manner,  and 
sometimes  the  joints  are  pulled  and  twisted  till  they  crack. 
During  all  this  process  you  recline  in  a  state  of  almost  dreamy 
composure,  wrapped  in  linen,  which  by  this  time  has  become 
nearly  dry.  A  small  toilet  glass  is  then  handed  to  you,  by 
which  to  adjust  your  hair  and  beard,  if  you  have  any,  and 
the  operation  is  complete.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
sense  of  refreshment  which  pervades  the  whole  system,  after 
this  lengthened,  and  perhaps  rather  tedious  affair. 

The  fact  of  European  travellers  having  arrived  at  Cairo,  in 
their  way  to  the  Great  Desert,  was  soon  known  to  the  Beda* 
ween  Arabs  who  happened  to  be  in  the  city  ;  and  on  one  occa¬ 
sion,  when,  after  an  excursion,  we  returned  to  our  hotel,  we 


BEDAWEEN  ARABS. 


95 


found  a  party  of  them,  with  a  young-  Sheikh,  sitting-  in  a 
circle  on  the  dust  in  the  court-yard.  This  was  the  first  sight 
I  had  of  the  Bedaween  Arabs.  They  were  awaiting  our 
arrival,  in  order  to  tender  their  services  as  an  escort.  They  rose 
up  in  a  body  as  we  approached,  and  immediately  surrounded 
us,  with  courteous  salaams ;  and  the  young  wild-eyed  Sheikh 
presented  the  testimonials  of  his  fidelity  and  trustworthiness 
which  he  had  received  under  the  hands  of  some  Europeans 
whom  he  had  recently  escorted.  The  first  sight  of  a  party 
of  Bedaween  Arabs  is  startling,  and  calculated  to  awaken  a 
timid  feeling  in  the  mind  of  a  stranger.  But  a  Bedawee,  in 
a  city,  is  after  all,  very  unlike  himself  when  in  the  desert. 
Averse  to  stone  walls  and  roofed  houses,  these  wild  birds 
seem  as  if  they  were  cribbed  and  confined.  Their  steps  are 
measured,  slow,  and  suspicious.  They  lose  their  energy  and 
spirit  when  away  from  the  wilderness,  in  which  they  usually 
pass  their  days  of  wandering  existence. 

As  I  shall  have  frequent  occasion  to  mention  the  Bedaween, 
under  whose  escort  alone  a  safe  journey  through  the  Arabian 
Desert  is  to  be  effected,  I  will  here  describe  their  general 
appearance  and  manners — at  least  the  appearance  and  man¬ 
ners  of  those  with  whom  I  became  most  familiar.  Amongst 
the  almost  endless  variety  of  tribes  who  wander  in  the  Desert, 
there  are  personal  and  conventional  varieties ;  though  in  the 
main,  they  have  many  of  their  principal  characteristics  in 
common,  as  descendants  from  one  stock.  It  is  now,  I  believe 
generally  agreed  that  they  are  all  the  progeny  of  Ishmael ; 
and  certainly  they  may  be  spoken  of  as  having  their  hand 
against  every  man,  and  every  man’s  hand  against  them. 

They  are  for  the  most  part,  straight,  upright,  and  gracefully 
formed.  I  have  never  met  with  a  lame  or  deformed  Bedawee. 
They  are  generally  of  a  spare  habit,  muscular  and  sinewy, 
Their  skins  are  of  a  fine  rich  brown,  very  like  the  color  of 
the  carefully  roasted  coffee  berry.  Frequently  their  skin  has 
almost  a  transparent  appearance,  and  is  capable  of  exhibiting 
emotion,  in  the  rushing  of  the  blood  to  the  cheeks.  Their 
eyes  are  well  set  in  their  heads,  and  are  sparkling,  burning 


96 


BEDAWEEN  ARABS. 


quick,  and  intelligent.  They  have  mostly  thin  spare  beards, 
which  they  wear  untrimmed.  They  possess  immense  energy 
and  activity,  and  are  capable  of  enduring  fatigue;  all  of 
which,  their  most  abstemious  habit  tend  to  cherish.  Their 
step,  when  m  the  Desert,  is  firm,  agile  and  graceful.  They 
walk  as  nature  intended.  They  have  never  been  drilled  into 
awkwardness  by  dancing  and  posture  masters.  Every  muscle, 
tendon  and  sinew,  performs  its  proper  office.  If  asked  to 
mention  the  best  specimen  of  untortured,  manly  gracefulness 
of  bearing  I  have  ever  met  with,  I  would  try  and  depict  a 
young  healthy  Bedawee  Arab.  And  their  simple  attire  is  as 
graceful  as  their  persons,  though  consisting  of  but  slender 
and  uncostly  materials.  Next  to  the  skin  they  wear  a  tunic 
or  shirt  of  unbleached  coarse  linen,  open  at  the  throat  and 
chest,  and  extending  a  little  below  the  knees,  the  legs  being 
left  bare.  The  sleeves  are  wide  and  flowing,  and  admit  of 
being  thrown  up  to  the  shoulder,  so  as  to  leave  the  arm  unin¬ 
cumbered,  when  needed  for  the  use  of  the  sabre.  This  gar¬ 
ment  is  gathered  round  the  loins  by  a  broad  stiff  leathern 
girdle,  in  which  is  fixed  the  long  crooked  knife,  with  a  blade 
of  about  eighteen  inches  long — a  fearful  weapon  in  a  dex¬ 
trous  hand.  From  the  girdle  is  suspended  also  the  flint  and 
steel  for  firing  their  matchlock  guns ;  and  also  a  pouch  foi 
tobacco,  commonly  made  of  lizard  skin.  Slung  from  the 
neck,  they  wear  a  belt  containing  several  rounds  of  am  mu. 
nition ;  while  by  the  side  is  usually  suspended  a  strong  iron- 
hilted  sabre,  and  behind  the  shoulders  a  long  matchlock  gun, 
sometimes  ornamented  with  bits  of  mother-o’-pearl.  On  the 
head  they  wear  the  tarbouch,  or  skull-cap,  made  of  crimson 
felt,  with  a  blue  tassel  at  the  crown,  round  which  is  bound  a 
shawl  or  turban.  Some,  instead  of  the  latter,  wear  the  kejjieh , 
which  is  a  handkerchief,  often  of  rich  colors,  placed  diagonally 
open  over  the  head.  The  foremost  corner  is  thrown  back 
and  the  whole  is  left  to  fall  in  graceful  folds  over  the  shoul¬ 
ders,  and  bound  round  the  temples  by  a  fillet  of  camel’s  hair 
twisted  into  a  rope.  This  latter  head-dress  is  far  more  com¬ 
mon  among  the  Arabs  on  both  sides  of  the  river  Jordan,  than. 


BEDAWEEN  ARABS - SHEIKH  HUSSEIN. 


97 


among  those  of  the  more  southern  parts  of  the  Desert.  The 
attire  of  all  Bedaween,  except  the  very  poorest,  is  completed 
by  an  outside  flowing  mantle,  of  a  very  graceful  shape — 
sometimes  blue,  now  and  then  crimson — but  more  commonly 
of  a  fawn  color,  marked  with  broad  stripes  of  dark  brown. 
The  former  are  generally  of  woollen  cloth ;  the  latter  of 
camel’s  hair.  They  commonly  go  barefoot ;  but  those  who 
can  afford  such  a  luxury,  have  sandals  of  fish  skin,  which  are 
made  at  Tor,  in  the  peninsula  of  Sinai.  They  however  use 
them  only  occasionally,  when  the  sands  are  intensely  hot,  or 
the  mountain-passes  sharp  and  rugged.  With  such  a  cos¬ 
tume — so  picturesque  and  graceful,  it  is  no  wonder  that  they 
should  produce,  at  first,  a  startling  effect  upon  a  European 
mind,  when  seen  in  connection  with  their  wild-bird-oHK -wilder¬ 
ness  bearing.  Their  garments  appear  as  if  they  had  never 
been  new — they  are  so  frayed  and  worn  ;  and  often  are  little 
better  than  a  bundle  of  rags — yet  not  the  less  graceful  for 
that ;  and  their  weapons,  doubtless,  have  passed  from  father 
to  son,  for  several  generations. 

We  did  not  avail  ourselves  of  the  tendered  services  of  the 
party  of  Bedaween  whom  we  had  found  awaiting  us,  having 
learnt  that  Sheikh  Hussein — the  powerful  chief  of  the  Oualed 
Said,  one  of  the  tribes  inhabiting  the  peninsula  of  Mount 
Sinai,  was  then  in  Cairo,  under  orders  for  escorting  an  En¬ 
glish  nobleman  through  the  same  route  on  which  we  had  re¬ 
solved.  We  were  recommended  to  obtain  and  act  upon  the 
advice  of  Sheikh  Hussein  as  to  making  up  our  caravan,  and 
selecting  our  escort ;  for  the  purpose  of  securing  which,  we 
sent  a  polite  message  to  this  venerable  and  celebrated  chief, 
who  courteously  answered  our  summons  without  delay. 
Though  we  could  not  have  the  benefit  of  his  personal  escort, 
yet  I  was  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  and  convers¬ 
ing  with  him ;  for  he  had  escorted  Mr.  Stephens,  the  Ameri¬ 
can  traveller,  Lord  Lindsay,  Mr.  D.  Roberts,  whose  pencilled 
scenes  in  the  east  have  immortalized  him — and  Mr.  Kinnear, 
the  author  of  one  of  the  pleasantest  and  most  sensibly  written 
books  I  have  met  with,  intituled  u  Cairo,  Petra  and  Damas- 

9 


98 


SHEIKH  HUSSEIN. 


cus,  in  1839.”  The  appearance  of  Sheikh  Hussein  was 
calm,  quiet,  and  prepossessing.  There  was  an  ease  and  mild¬ 
ness  about  him  which  was  very  taking ;  and  a  smile  of  dig¬ 
nified  affability  was  upon  his  lip.  He  was  a  study  for  a 
painter  in  his  happiest  mood.  His  dress  was  old  and  faded ; 
but  strictly  after  the  manner  of  the  Bedaween.  His  large 
iron-hilted  sabre,  slung  by  a  rude  belt  of  undressed  leather, 
appeared  as  if  it  had  been  drawn  in  a  thousand  frays  ;  and 
seemed  scarcely  to  belong  to  one  so  gentle  and  peaceful  in  ap¬ 
pearance  as  Sheikh  Hussein.  His  cheeks  were  as  brown  as 
the  deepest  colored  mahogany  or  chocolate :  his  beard  griz¬ 
zled  and  flowing,  and  his  eyes  intensely  bright  and  sparkling. 
He  was  thin  and  sinewy,  as  if  all  the  animal  juices  of  his 
body  had  been  dried  up  by  the  scorching  rays  of  his  native 
sun.  On  his  neck  and  bare  chest,  the  skin  seemed  as  if 
tightly  stretched,  and  glued  to  the  bones.  On  entering  the 
room  he  extended  his  right  hand  and  gave  us  the  usual  sa 
laarn,  and  we  exchanged  with  him  the  customary  salutation, 
which  consists  in  striking  gently  the  palm  of  each  other’s  ex 
tended  hand,  and  then  pressing  one’s  own  hand  first  upon  the 
lips,  and  next  upon  the  forehead.  We  all  seated  ourselves 
for  the  conference,  and  pipes  and  coffee,  according  to  the  ori¬ 
ental  custom,  were  served.  Unlike  most  of  the  Bedaween, 
Sheikh  Hussein  is  no  smoker  ;  but  as  it  is  deemed  uncour- 
teous  to  refuse  an  offered  pipe,  he  just  put  it  to  his  lips,  took 
one  whiff,  and  laid  it  aside.  Addressing  him  through  an  in¬ 
terpreter,  we  explained  our  wishes  as  to  the  desert  route,  and 
begged  his  counsel  and  advice.  He  assured  us  that  the  route 
to  Jerusalem  (El  Khoddes)  by  way  of  Mount  Sinai  (Gebel 
Mousa),  Akabah,  Wadey  Mousa,  and  Hebron  (El  Khalil),  was 
perfectly  safe,  and  that  the  temperature  of  the  season  was 
quite  suitable.  He  strongly  recommended  that  we  should 
put  ourselves  under  the  care  of  Sheikh  Suleiman  Mengid,  the 
chief  of  another  of  the  tribes,  whose  territory  is  in  the  penin¬ 
sula  of  Sinai,  who,  he  said,  was  then  in  Cairo.  With  all  the 
novelty  of  such  an  expedition  before  us,  demanding  the  ut¬ 
most  confidence  in  those  who  should  be  our  escort,  it  may  be 


SHEIKH  SULEIMAN  MENGID. 


99 


easily  supposed  that  we  listened  with  great  interest  to  the 
conversation  of  our  new  friend,  whom  we  looked  upon  as  a 
specimen  of  those  to  whom  we  were  about  to  commit  our  per¬ 
sons  and  property,  in  a  country  where  little  else  than  the  law 
of  the  sword  prevails.  We  begged  Hussein  to  introduce  us 
to  Sheikh  Suleiman,  which  he  promised  to  do  ;  and  after  a 
few  minutes  of  further  conversation,  he  rose  to  depart,  again 
exchanging  with  us  the  usual  salutations. 

For  several  days  the  hot  khamseen  wind  had  been  blowing 
most  oppressively.  The  thermometer  stood  at  ninety  Fahren¬ 
heit,  in  the  shade — I  know  not  at  what  in  the  sun.  The 
very  thought  of  the  desert  at  such  a  time  was  scorching. 

On  the  day  after  Sheikh  Hussein’s  visit  he  returned  to  us, 
bringing  with  him  Sheikh  Suleiman,  as  our  proposed  escort, 
first  to  Mount  Sinai,  and  thence  to  Akabah.  Suleiman  was 
one  of  the  most  portly  and  majestic  Arabs  I  have  ever  seen. 
He  was  dressed  in  an  under  garment  or  cassock  of  crimson, 
bound  round  the  waist  with  a  shawl,  in  which  were  placed 
his  pistols  and  crooked  knife.  Over  this  he  wore  the  usual 
purple  mantle,  in  full  picturesque  folds,  and  a  turban  formed 
of  a  cashmere  shawl.  After  a  brief  conversation  and  inter¬ 
change  of  civilities,  we  proceeded  direct  to  the  British  Consu¬ 
late,  for  the  purpose  of  making  our  contract  in  a  formal  man¬ 
ner.  A  Bedawee  Arab  will  haggle  and  drive  the  hardest 
bargain,  in  order  to  get  the  very  last  piastre ;  and  for  that 
purpose  will  descend  to  almost  any  meanness  ;  but  when 
once  the  contract  is  made  with  him,  he  honestly  fulfils  it  to 
the  minutest  particular  ;  and  considers  that  he  has  enlisted* 
himself — life  and  heart  in  your  service. 

Though  I  had  in  some  degree  familiarized  my  mind,  by 
previous  reading,  with  the  Desert  route,  and  with  the  habits 
and  customs  of  the  Arabs,  yet  I  confess  there  was  almost  an 
uneasy  sensation  in  my  mind,  as  we  went  with  these  two 
mighty  chiefs — both  fit  subjects  for  the  pencil  of  Salvator 
Rosa  himself — to  the  cancellaria  of  the  British  Consul,  for 
the  purpose  of  signing  and  sealing  our  preliminary  arrange¬ 
ments.  Again  and  again  I  felt,  how  vain  is  the  help  of  man ' 


100 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  DESERT. 


and  how  entirely  it  became  us  to  see  that,  in  prospect  of 
such  an  expedition,  we  were  resting  on  the  arm  of  a  covenant 
God. 

Our  contract  was  soon  made,  and  consisted  of  the  following 
particulars  : — Sheikh  Suleiman  was  to  give  us  safe  conduct 
direct  to  Mount  Sinai,  where  we  were  to  stay  three  days  at 
the  least ;  next,  to  the  fort  of  Akabah,  at  the  eastern  gulph 
of  the  Red  Sea,  where  we  were  to  stay  two  days  at  least ;  and 
there  to  determine  upon  our  future  route,  either  through 
Edom,  or  otherwise.  Sheikh  Suleiman  was  to  provide  a 
suitable  supply  of  camels,  proportioned  to  our  numbers  and 
baggage,  and  an  efficient  escort  of  Arabs,  of  his  tribe.  The 
hire  for  each  camel  was  to  be  two  hundred  and  fifty  piastres, 
that  is,  about  two  pounds  ten  shillings,  English.  Should  ad¬ 
ditional  camels  be  at  any  time  wanted,  they  were  to  be  sup¬ 
plied  at  the  same  rate.  And  it  was  stipulated,  that  in  the 
event  of  our  staying  more  than  three  days  at  Mount  Sinai, 
or  two  at  Akabah,  we  were  to  pay  ten  piastres  per  day  for 
each  camel,  in  addition  to  the  price  already  contracted  for. 
When  these  various  matters  were  all  agreed  on,  they  were 
reduced  to  writing,  in  the  form  of  a  regular  contract,  first  in 
Arabic,  and  then  in  English.  The  former  was  read  over  to 
Sheikh  Suleiman,  who  listened  with  great  gravity  of  atten¬ 
tion  ;  and  then,  laying  his  hand  first  on  his  heart,  and  next  on 
his  head,  as  a  token  and  pledge  of  fidelity,  said — •“  Tayeeb, 
tayeeb” — very  good,  very  good.  And  when  we  had  affixed 
our  signatures  to  the  document,  the  Sheikh  drew  from  under 
his  girdle,  a  small  brass  seal,  engraved  with  Arabic  characters 
— his  name  and  style,  1  suppose — from  which  an  impression 
was  made  on  the  paper.  This  act  was  duly  registered  in  the 
cancellaria.  This  matter  of  business  having  been  fully  ar¬ 
ranged,  and  the  tenth  of  May  fixed  as  the  day  of  our  depar¬ 
ture,  we  separated  with  mutual  satisfaction — the  Sheikh  to 
his  bivouac,  on  the  borders  of  the  desert,  and  we  to  the  ba¬ 
zaars,  to  make  the  remaining  needful  purchases  for  our  expe¬ 
dition — bearing  in  mind,  that  if  any  thing  should  be  forgotten, 
no  bazaars  would  be  found  by  the  way. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  DESERT. 


101 


To  those  who  are  accustomed  to  the  ease  and  safety  of  Eu¬ 
ropean  travelling,  the  preparations  for  a  desert  route  are  of  t 
very  novel  kind.  Our  provisions  consisted  of  casks  of  bis¬ 
cuit,  rice,  maccaroni,  vermicelli,  pasta,  dried  fruits,  coffee; 
and  tobacco,  for  the  Arabs,  in  abundance ;  a  canteen  with 
plates,  dishes,  knives,  forks,  spoons,  and  cooking  vessels,  a 
coffee  pot,  charcoal  for  cooking,  block  tin  basins  for  washing 
a  large  supply  of  well-seasoned  skins  for  water  (new  ones 
jeing  objectionable  on  account  of  the  rancid  taste  they  are 
apt  to  impart  to  the  water),  Arab  umbrellas,  rudely  made  of 
green  and  white  cotton  stuff,  to  protect  the  face  against  the 
sun  ;  porous  water  bottles  made  of  baked  earth,  to  be  slung 
at  the  saddle,  which,  by  evaporation,  keep  the  water  compara¬ 
tively  cool  for  immediate  use ;  a  firm  well-constructed  tent  for 
ourselves,  and  another  for  our  servants,  with  camp  stools  and 
a  table  made  to  fold  up  with  the  tent ;  segaddehs  or  prayer- 
carpets  used  by  the  Musselmans — to  form  part  of  our  beds 
by  night,  and  saddles  by  day  !  mattresses  and  light  coverlids, 
and  nicely  constructed  framework,  made  of  split  branches  of 
the  palm  tree,  to  protect  our  bedding  from  damp  and  vermin  ; 
Arab  lamps,  to  be  suspended  in  the  tents  at  night,  and  a  good 
store  of  wax  candles  and  oil ;  pistols,  sabres,  ammunition, 
and  Arab  attire,  which  our  friends  in  Alexandria  and  Cairo 
advised  us  to  assume.  The  costume  which  I  wore  was  that 
of  a  Khowaga,  or  merchant  of  Cairo,  consisting  of  white 
linen  trousers  of  very  spacious  dimensions,  yellow  morocco 
slippers  next  my  feet,  and  scarlet  ones  over  them  ;  a  cassock 
of  rich  crimson  and  yellow  Damascus  stuff,  bound  round  the 
waist  with  a  long  silk  scarf  of  variegated  colors,  and  over  it 
a  flowing  robe  of  olive  colored  cloth  ;  a  white  turban  and 
tarbouch,  or  crimson-felt  skull  cap,  with  a  close  linen  cap 
within  it — affording  the  most  comfortable  dress  for  the  head 
(which  was  shaved  according  to  the  oriental  custom),  and 
protecting  very  effectually  against  the  intense  heat  of  the 
sun. 

The  next  thing  was  to  secure  experienced  and  trustworthy 
servants ;  for  upon  success  in  this  particular,  much  of  the 

9* 


102 


CAIRO - SLAVE  MARKET. 


comfort  of  the  traveller  depends.  The  Arab  servants  bear 
in  genera],  a  bad  character,  although  most  of  them  contrive 
somehow  to  have  fair  testimonials.  We  agreed  with  one  as 
our  dragoman,  or  principal,  whose  testimonials  were  many, 
and  highly  satisfactory — an  active,  intelligent,  and  experi¬ 
enced  man,  well  acquainted  not  only  with  the  Desert  route 
but  with  Syria  and  Palestine  also.  In  addition  to  his  othei 
qualifications,  he  spoke  very  understandable  English,  and 
better  Italian.  He  had  Bedaween  blood  in  his  veins,  and  a 
dash  of  Quixotism  in  his  character.  Hassenein  certainly  pre¬ 
possessed  me  much  in  his  favor  from  the  beginning,  and 
never  disappointed  me.  Upon  his  recommendation  we  agreed 
with  a  second,  as  cook  ;  and  if  ever  there  was  a  faithful  Arab 
servant,  Abddawahyed  (pronounced  AbcVlo-a-heit)  was  one  ; 
and  a  cook,  moveover,  who  need  not,  after  a  little  practice, 
blush  in  a  European  cuisine,  if  ever  he  should  get  there. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  their  attendance  upon  us,  they  never 
deserved  a  syllable  of  rebuke  ;  but  all  the  praise  we  could 
bestow. 

I  have  given  a  special  page  to  this  description  of  our  prepa¬ 
rations  for  the  route,  because,  so  far  as  I  know,  travellers  have 
been  but  scanty  in  their  information  on  such  matters ;  and  I 
fancy  what  I  have  mentioned  will  be  useful  to  others  who 
may  be  meditating  such  a  tour. 

While  engaged  in  the  bazaars,  we  availed  ourselves  of  an 
opportunity  of  visiting  the  slave  market  of  Cairo.  It  consists 
of  a  quadrangular  open  space,  surrounded  with  buildings, 
affording  places  of  retreat  for  those  slaves  especially,  who  are, 
usually,  less  than  others,  exposed  to  the  public  gaze.  There 
was  an  air  of  wretchedness  about  the  whole  scene,  heightened 
I  dare  say,  to  my  imagination,  by  those  strong  feelings  with 
which  every  Englishman,  of  healthy  moral  principle,  regards 
slavery  in  all  its  forms.  The  slaves  offered  for  sale  on  the 
occasion  of  our  visit,  consisted  chiefly  of  Nubians  and  Abys- 
sinians,  of  both  sexes,  and  of  almost  all  ages  ;  some  of  them 
intelligent  in  their  appearance,  and  possessing  an  air  of  vigor 
and  activity.  It  was  an  uncuiet  sensation  which  vibrated  in 


CAIRO— — SLAVE  MARKET - SHUBRA - GREEK  CONVENT.  103 


my  heart,  as  I  walked  round  from  group  to  group,  ana 
mingled  with  parties  of  Arabs,  Turks,  and  Jews,  who,  with 
calculating  brows  and  scrutinizing  glances,  were  satisfying 
themselves  as  to  the  strength  and  value  of  the  slaves — much 
as  jockeys  examine  and  judge  of  horses.  We  did  not  see  any 
bargains  actually  concluded  ;  but  quite  enough  to  arousd 
indignation.  Alas  !  for  human  nature,  that  it  should  be  so 
degraded.  Some  of  the  poor  creatures  looked  quietly  submis¬ 
sive,  and  even  cheerful ;  while  others  appeared  depressed  and 
gloomy.  All  knew  they  were  to  be  sold — were  born  to  be 
sold,  and  silently  awaited  their  destiny.  If,  in  the  present 
state  of  the  east,  slavery  must  needs  exist,  it  is  a  matter  of  no 
small  satisfaction  to  know  that  generally,  slaves  are  well 
treated  by  their  masters.  But,  self-interest  lies  at  the  bottom 
of  it ;  for  they  are  the  property  of  their  masters — their  money , 
in  the  form  of  human  flesh ;  and  few,  however  inhuman, 
would  needlessly  impair  the  health  of  their  slaves  by  cruelty 
or  privation. 

From  the  slave  market,  we  proceeded,  notwithstanding  a 
hot  khamseen  wind,  which  seemed  like  gusts  of  burning 
vapor  wafted  from  an  oven,  to  explore  the  palace  and  gardens 
of  Mehemet  Ali,  at  Shubra.  The  gardens  are  beautiful  of 
their  kind,  and  more  trim  and  formal  than  those  of  Ibrahim 
Pacha,  at  Rhoda.  Straight  lines  prevail  very  much  j  and  the 
paths  are  in  many  places  paved  with  variegated  pebbles. 
Lemon,  apricot,  and  other  trees  abounded,  bearing  fruit  abun 
dantly  ;  while  roses,  jessamine,  and  various  beautiful  flowers 
lent  their  aid  to  complete  the  effect.  We  could  not  obtain 
admission  to  the  whole  of  the  palace ;  but  had  the  honor  of 
seating  ourselves  on  the  Pacha’s  dewan  in  one  of  his  cham¬ 
bers  of  audience.  The  palace  gives  but  little  idea  of  oriental 
splendor ;  and  so  far  as  we  saw  of  it,  was  fitted  up  in  the 
^  poorest  style  of  tawdry  French  decoration. 

It  is  needful  that  all  travellers  intending  to  make  a  sojourn 
in  the  convent  of  Santa  Katarina  at  Mount  Sinai,  should  take 
with  them  a  letter  of  introduction  from  the  superior  of  the 
Greek  convent  at  Cairo.  For  the  purpose  of  obtaining  such 


104 


CAIRO - GREEK  CONVENT. 


a  credential,  we  resolved  on  paying-  a  personal  visit  to  tha 
worthy  superior.  Having  arrived  at  the  outer  gate,  we  found 
several  brethren  seated  on  a  dewan,  within,  dressed  in  the 
graceful  costume  of  their  order,  and  with  fine  flowing  beards, 
and  hair  streaming  over  their  shoulders.  They  performed 
the  office  of  porters,  or  janitors.  They  received  us  respect¬ 
fully  ;  and  when  Hassenein  informed  them  of  the  purport 
of  our  visit,  we  were  immediately  admitted  ;  and  one  of  them 
led  the  way  through  several  passages  or  corridors,  in  which 
were  sundry  other  brethren  variously  occupied,  till  at  length 
he  ushered  us  into  the  chamber  of  audience,  at  the  further 
part  of  which  was  a  raised  dewan,  and  at  the  right  hand  cor¬ 
ner  of  it,  on  the  floor,  a  separate  set  of  cushions  and  carpets— 
with  a  low  table  and  writing  materials  near  at  hand.  The 
apartment  was  delightfully  cool :  and  its  whitewashed  walls 
were  decorated  with  curious  old  and  rudely  executed  pictures, 
of  scripture  subjects,  and  crucifixes.  One  of  the  pictures, 
and  apparently  the  most  ancient,  was  intended  to  represent 
Mount  Sinai,  Horeb,  and  the  Convent  of  Santa  Katarina,  in 
which  every  rule  of  perspective  was  most  amusingly  set  at 
naught.  We  had  but  little  time  for  observation,  ere  the 
superior  made  his  appearance ;  and,  after  receiving  us  with 
every  token  of  respectful  attention,  bade  us  seat  ourselves  on 
the  dewan,  and  took  his  own  place  on  the  low  cushions  beside 
the  writing  table  ;  while  near  him,  sat  one  of  the  brethren,  a 
fine,  intelligent  looking,  white-bearded  old  man  of  about 
sixty,  as  Arabic  interpreter.  The  superior  was  a  younger 
man,  and  of  a  very  kindly  and  prepossessing  countenance. 
Our  dragcman  was  desired  to  step  up  upon  the  dewan,  and 
to  open  the  conference.  He  informed  the  superior  that  we 
were  two  English  gentlemen,  making  a  pilgrimage  to  Jeru¬ 
salem,  by  way  of  Mount  Sinai  and  Akabah,  and  desiring  to 
share  the  hospitality  of  the  brethren  of  Santa  Katarina.  The 
superior  courteously  replied,  that  he  should  be  gratified  in 
giving  us  a  letter  of  recommendation ;  inquired  our  names, 
which  he  took  down  in  writing,  and  promised  that  the  letter 
should  be  ready  for  us  on  the  morrow.  A  lay-brother  then 


PYRAMIDS  OF  GHISEH. 


105 


entered  the  room,  bearing  a  salver,  on  which  were  presentee 
to  us  preserved  cherries,  spring  water,  and  arakee — a  pleasan 
spirit  distilled  from  dates,  of  which  we  partook  ;  and  having 
conversed  briefly  about  England  and  English  travellers,  the 
aged  brother,  who  sat  near  the  superior,  handed  us  delicious 
coffee.  When  we  had  finished  it,  he  rose  again  from  his  seat 
to  receive  the  empty  cups,  with  great  humility  of  manner.  1 
presume  this  is  one  of  the  usual  formalities  of  their  hospitality. 
It  was  altogether  a  simple  and  primitive  scene.  There  were 
we — two  English  clergymen,  in  the  midst  of  Grand  Cairo — 
strangers — yet  received  with  all  hospitality  by  those  simple 
monks,  as  if  we  had  been  known  to  them  from  our  youth.  I 
could  but  think  of  the  words — “  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye 
took  me  in.”  We  soon  afterwards  rose  to  depart,  expressing 
in  the  best  way  we  were  able,  our  sense  of  obligation  for  the 
kindness  we  had  experienced.  The  superior  and  brethren 
cordially  bade  us  farewell,  and  a  u  bon  voyage.” 

Having  now  made  every  arrangement  for  our  journey,  and 
having  time  at  our  disposal,  we  resolved  on  making  our  visit 
to  the  Pyramids  of  Ghiseh.  If  there  be  anything  venerable 
in  antiquity,  then  these  wonderful  structures  are  venerable 
indeed.  I  felt,  in  preparing  for  the  visit,  I  was  not  about  to 
bring  the  learning  of  an  acute  antiquary  to  bear  on  them.  I 
knew  that  learning  had  nearly  exhausted  its  resources,  and 
that  still  they  are  overhung  with  a  veil  of  deepest  mystery. 
I  could  visit  them,  therefore,  only  with  the  strong  feelings  of 
a  man  interested  in  all  that  concerns  the  by-gone  history  of 
his  species. 

A  journey  of  about  ten  English  miles,  south-west  of  Cairo, 
or,  during  the  inundation  of  the  Nile,  a  circuit  of  twenty, 
brings  the  traveller  to  the  Pyramids  of  Ghiseh.  It  was  a 
lovely  bright  morning,  on  the  seventh  of  May,  when,  at  six 
o’clock,  we  set  out  on  our  expedition,  mounted  on  the  strong¬ 
est  donkeys  we  could  procure — the  ordinary  means  of  loco¬ 
motion  in  Cairo,  as  well  as  in  Alexandria.  As  we  passed 
through  the  streets,  even  at  that  early  hour,  the  whole  popu« 
lation  seemed  to  be  abroad,  engaged  in  their  various  callings, 


106 


OLD  CAIRO - DERVISHES. 


What  struck  me  most,  was  the  abundance  of  stalls  and 
bazaars,  piled  up  with  immense  supplies  of  water-melons 
cucumbers  of  enormous  length  and  size,  and  other  fruits  cf 
the  season,  of  which  the  people  eat  abundantly,  even  while 
walking  in  the  streets,  or  sitting  in  parties  in  the  dust.  As 
we  approached  nearer  to  the  suburbs,  great  numbers  of  men 
and  women,  in  their  picturesque  attire,  were  entering  the 
city,  bearing  vast  additional  contributions  of  these  various 
kinds  of  fruit,  so  adapted  to  the  climate  and  the  simple  wants 
of  the  people.  I  thought  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  their 
discontented  desire  after  the  provisions  of  Egypt,  which  they 
missed  in  the  Desert — “  And  the  mixed  multitude  that  was 
among  them  fell  a  lusting ;  and  the  children  of  Israel  also 
wept  again,  and  said,  Who  shall  give  us  flesh  to  eat?  We 
remember  the  fish  which  we  did  eat  in  Egypt  freely;  the 
cucumbers  and  the  melons ,  and  the  leeks  and  the  onions ,  and  the 
garlicky* 

Our  way  towards  the  Pyramids  lay  through  Old  Cairo, 
which  is  now  a  kind  of  port,  or  landing  place,  on  the  banks 
of  the  river,  and  near  Rhoda  Island.  We  had  to  cross  the 
Nile  at  this  point  by  a  ferry  boat ;  and,  having  reached  the 
opposite  bank,  were  borne  on  the  backs  of  waiting  Arabs 
through  the  shallow  water,  and  safely  landed.  Having  pro¬ 
ceeded  a  short  distance  along  a  road  winding  amidst  date 
groves,  our  attention  was  drawn  to  the  sound  of  a  reed-pipe, 
accompanied  by  the  beating  of  tabors ;  and  soon  we  found  a 
large  crowd  assembled,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  a  party  of 
Dervishes,  engaged  in  what,  among  Musselmans,  is  accounted 
a  religious  service.  It  was  a  “  calling  for  Godf  as  our  drago¬ 
man  informed  us,  in  reference  to  the  rising  of  the  Nile. 
Happy  are  the  people  who,  in  calling  upon  God,  know  how 
to  draw  near  him  through  One  u  who  ever  liveth  to  make 
intercession.”  When  we  approached  the  crowd,  we  found  the 
Dervishes  formed  into  a  circle,  swaying  themselves  from  side 
to  side  in  the  most  excited  manner,  with  their  eyes  closed 


*  Numbers  xi.  4 — 6. 


EGYPTIAN  HARVEST - PYRAMIDS  OF  GHISEH. 


107 


uttering  groans  and  cries  and  ejaculations,  which  mingled 
strangely  with  the  sounds  of  the  pipe  and  tabor  This  violent 
exercise  was  continued  for  a  length  of  time,  till  all  the  party 
seemed  exhausted,  ar.d  utterly  unconscious  of  external  objects. 
While  we  stood  witnessing  this  strange  ceremony,  an  Arab 
came  to  us  from  the  crowd  soliciting  money,  to  whom  our 
dragoman,  as  a  good  Musselman,  flung  a  few  paras.  One 
could  not  contemplate  such  an  assembly,  without  a  prayerful 
longing  for  the  day  when  all  shall  know  the  Lord,  as  he  has 
revealed  himself  in  Christ — from  the  least  to  the  greatest. 

Leaving  this  strange  scene,  we  went  on  through  an  arid 
and  wilderness-like  route,  with  here  and  there  a  palm  or  date, 
and  occasionally  a  fig  tree,  abounding  with  unripe  fruit.  At 
length  we  reached  an  Arab  village — squalid  and  wretched- 
looking,  surrounded  by  cultivated  lands  to  a  considerable 
extent,  upon  which  the  laborers  were  gathering  in  the  spare 
crops  of  poor  stunted  barley.  They  do  not  cut  the  corn  with 
a  sickle,  or  any  other  instrument,  but  pluck  it  up  by  the  roots 
in  handfuls,  and  bind  it,  without  being  made  into  sheaves,  on 
the  backs  of  camels.  This  custom  seemed  to  illustrate  Eccles. 
iii.  2 : — “  A  time  to  plant,  and  a  time  to  pluck  up  that  which 
is  planted  and  Jeremiah  xxiv.  6,  “  For  I  will  set  mine  eyes 
upon  them  [Israel]  for  good,  and  I  will  bring  them  again  to 
this  land ;  and  I  will  build  them,  and  not  pull  them  down ; 
and  I  will  plant  them,  and  not  pluck  them  up.”  In  most  parts 
of  the  east  which  we  subsequently  visited,  the  same  custom 
very  generally  prevailed  in  the  harvest  fields. 

Beyond  this  harvest  scene,  the  face  of  the  country  was  very 
parched  and  dreary.  The  land  was  gaping  in  wide  fissures, 
by  reason  of  the  heat  to  which  it  had  been  exposed,  and  wait¬ 
ing  for  the  efflux  of  the  Nile.  It  was  indeed  “  a  dry  and 
thirsty  land,  where  no  water  is.”  The  Pyramids  were,  and 
had  been,  for  a  considerable  time  in  sight ;  but  my  mind 
involuntarily  yielded  again  to  the  sense  of  disappointment 
which  I  had  experienced  when  I  caught  the  first  glance  of 
them  from  the  river.  They  appeared  positively  insignificant 
in  their  dimensions,  standing  as  they  did  on  the  far-stretching 


108 


PYRAMIDS  OF  GHISEH. 


surface  of  the  Lybian  Desert.  The  extreme  clearness  of  the 
atmosphere  gave  ihem  such  an  appearance  of  proximity,  as 
made  us  suppose  we  were  on  the  point  of  reaching  them, 
when  in  fact  a  space  of  two  or  three  miles  intervened.  And 
it  was  not  until  standing  at  the  very  base,  and  examining  the 
vast  dimensions  of  separate  stones,  and  suffering  the  eye  to 
wander  up  to  the  summit,  that  we  became  capable  of  receiving 
a  due  impression  of  their  magnitude.  And  even  then,  the 
mind  needed  to  have  time  to  dilate  itself  for  the  purpose  of 
accurate  perception.  The  plan  of  the  Pyramids  is  that  of  a 
perfect  square  ;  and  is  a  continuation  of  square  upon  square — 
each  one  contracting  in  certain  dimensions,  till  the  last  termi¬ 
nates  nearly  in  a  point.  The  ascertained  dimensions  of  the 
Pyramid  of  Cheops,  which  is  the  largest,  are  seven  hundred 
and  fifty-two  feet  at  the  base,  which  being  nearly  square, 
would  give  about  three  thousand  feet  for  its  four  sides ;  so  that 
it  occupies  a  space  of  more  than  thirteen  acres.  Its  perpen¬ 
dicular  height  is  about  five  hundred  and  ninety  feet — about 
one  hundred  feet  higher  than  the  cross  and  ball  on  St.  Paul’s 
in  London,  and  about  twenty-three  above  the  summit  of  St. 
Peter’s  in  Rome.*  Some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  this  stu¬ 
pendous  work  of  early  art  may  be  conceived,  by  supposing 
the  area  of  Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields  to  be  occupied  by  a  pile  of 
masonry,  the  base  nearly  coinciding  in  dimensions  with  that 
area.  And  supposing  this  Pyramid  to  be  solid,  and  not  to 
consist  of  chambers  which  have  been  from  time  to  time  dis¬ 
covered,  its  contents  would  exceed  three  millions  of  cubic 
yards  of  masonry. 

Perhaps  no  ancient  productions  of  human  ingenuity  have 
been  the  subject  of  so  many  theories  and  conjectures  as  these 
remarkable  structures,  on  which  the  sweep  of  ages  has  exer- 

*  The  form  of  this  immense  mass  prevents  a  very  accurate  measurement 
without  great  labor,  and  danger.  Hence  the  various  estimates  which  have 
been  made.  Herodotus  mentions  its  reputed  height,  in  his  time,  to  have 
been  eight  hundred  feet,  and  the  width  of  each  side  of  the  base  the  same. 
Strabo  made  it  six  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet;  but  Diodorus  reduces  it 
to  six  hundred.  Many  modern  observers  have  agreed  with  Strabo,  anc 
some  bring  it  much  below  Diodorus. 


PYRAMIDS  OF  GHISEH. 


109 


cised  no  traceable  power.  The  men  of  this  generation  see  in 
them  what  their  founders  saw ;  and  while  the  world  lasts, 
future  generations  will  doubtless  see  them  as  we  do.  They 
are  almost  the  only  things  of  human  origin  which  are  insus¬ 
ceptible  of  change — they  possess  in  themselves  the  elements 
of  permanence.  Whether  they  were  originally  connected 
with  the  religious  institutions  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  as 
some  have  believed ;  or  whether,  as  others  have  imagined, 
they  were  only  granaries  for  storing  corn ;  or  retreats  in  the 
event  of  another  deluge,  or  too  great  an  efflux  of  the  Nile  ;  or 
monuments  to  memorialize  great  events ;  or  temples  for  con¬ 
sulting  oracles ;  or  observatories  for  astronomical  purposes ;  or 
tombs  and  depositories  of  ancient  kings ;  or  erected  to  the 
honor  of  the  Patriarch  Joseph ;  or  for  the  worship  of  the  dog- 
star  Sirius,  denoting  the  periodical  rising  of  the  Nile — there 
is  still  an  absence  of  all  conclusive  proof ;  and  so  far  as  pre¬ 
sent  and  past  observations  have  gone,  there  is  a  like  absence 
of  all  adequate  means  for  arriving  at  such  proof.  Yet,  there 
they  stand — still  inviting,  though  incapable  of  satisfying,  spe¬ 
culation.  Sir  John  Gardner  Wilkinson,  whose  investigations 
are  most  valuable  and  instructive  on  all  matters  relating  to 
ancient  Egypt,  sees  sufficient  reason  for  supposing  that  they 
were  erected  by  Suphis  and  his  brother  Sensuphis,  about  the 
year  2120,  before  the  Christian  era.  Considering  how  utterly 
the  chronicles  of  men  fail  to  carry  the  mind  back  accurately 
to  the  period  of  their  origin,  it  requires  no  great  effort  of  the 
imagination  to  conceive  that  they  were  gazed  upon  by  Abra¬ 
ham,  while  sojourning  in  Egypt ;  by  Joseph  the  ruler  and 
his  amazed  brethren,  and  by  Moses  himself,  when,  under  the 
banner  of  Jehovah,  he  led  forth  Israel  from  the  bondage  under 
which  they  groaned.  And,  if  imagination  may  be  allowed 
thus  to  associate  with  the  Pyramids  the  early  facts  and  per¬ 
sonages  of  Bible  history,  we  may  at  the  same  time  take  the 
ground  of  certainty  and  say,  they  were  beheld  with  wonder 
and  admiration,  by  Homer  and  Herodotus,  by  Pythagoras  and 
Plato ;  that  they  were  hoary  antiquities  even  in  their  days 
and  scarcely  appear  to  have  ever  been  young. 

10 


no 


PYRAMIDS  OF  GHISEH. 


But  I  must  pause  on  this  subject,  or  fill  my  pages  with 
it  alone ;  and  still  leave  the  reader’s  mind  unsatisfied  and 
perplexed. 

On  approaching  the  Pyramids,  we  were  surrounded  by  a 
troop  of  wild  Arabs,  all  eagerly  tendering  their  services  as 
guides — modern  plagues  of  Egypt  as  they  are.  Again  and 
again  I  wished  we  could  shake  them  off,  and  pursue  our 
object  in  peace;  but  it  was  a  vain  wish.  u  Backsheech — 
backsheech was  the  hateful  word  ever  on  their  lips.  The 
Pyramids  themselves  were  nothing  to  them,  except  for  the 
few  piastres  they  might  extort  from  the  wondering  visitor. 

We  had  provided  ourselves  with  wax  tapers,  for  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  seeing  so  much  of  the  interior  of  the  great  Pyramid 
of  Cheops  as  has  been  explored  and  developed  by  Belzoni, 
Caviglia,  Colonel  Vyse,  and  others.  By  this  dim  and  preca¬ 
rious  light  we  entered,  with  some  of  our  troublesome  guides, 
at  the  sixteenth  step,  on  the  northern  side,  to  which  we  as¬ 
cended  by  an  inclined  plane  of  sand  and  rubbish.  The  en¬ 
trance  is  by  a  narrow  passage,  perfectly  dark,  inclining  down¬ 
wards  for  between  two  and  three  hundred  feet,  at  an  angle  of 
27°.  The  path  is  rugged  and  fatiguing,  and  must  be  pur¬ 
sued  by  a  person  of  ordinary  height  in  a  stooping  posture. 
This  first  passage  terminates  at  a  large  hall  in  the  very  cen¬ 
tre  of  the  Pyramid — the  magnitude  of  which  I  could  form  but 
little  idea  of,  in  the  feeble  light  of  our  tapers.  Prom  this 
chamber,  we  proceeded  upwards  by  a  similar  inclined  plane/ 
but  exceedingly  slippery — to  what  is  called  the  grand  gallery  1 
and  here  I  resolved  to  terminate  my  explorative  labors;  foi 
the  Arabs  became  so  'offensively  clamorous  for  money,  and 
our  means  of  satisfactory  examination  were  so  insufficient, 
that  I  felt  it  to  be  a  needless  exposure  to  toil  and  vexation.  1 
was  satisfied  with  having  thus  seen  and  entered  the  great 
Pyramid  of  Cheops;  knowing  that  the  researches  of  scientific 
men,  accessible  to  most  readers,  had  already  given  to  the 
public  all  the  minute  particulars  which  have  hitherto  been 

*  A  reward  in  money.  Even  when  an  Arab  intends  to  rob  a  traveller 
he  politely  asks  for  “ Backsheech .” 


THE  SPHYNX. 


Ill 


ascertained.  To  the  standard  works  on  the  subject,  I  must 
therefore  refer  the  inquiring  reader. 

Contenting  ourselves  with  a  general  survey  of  the  Pyramid 
of  Cephrenes,  the  second  in  dimensions,  and  similar  in  its 
construction  to  that  of  Cheops,  we  descended  to  the  lower 
surface  of  the  plain,  eastward  of  the  Pyramids,  where  stands 
that  far-famed  remnant  of  Egyptian  antiquity,  the  Sphynx — 
half  buried  in  the  rapidly  accumulating  sands  of  the  Desert, 
notwithstanding  the  pains  and  labor  which  have,  from  time 
to  time,  been  expended  on  it,  for  the  sake  of  keeping  it  visible 
in  all  its  parts.  Its  dimensions  are  vastly  colossal.  The  head 
— in  which  the  Coptic  expression  is  still  distinctly  preserved 
— measures  from  the  point  of  the  chin  to  the  lop  of  the  fore¬ 
head,  twenty-eight  feet.  The  body,  in  a  couchant  posture,  is 
about  one  hundred  feet  in  length.  Laborious  excavations 
were  made  about  this  Sphynx  by  the  enterprising  Caviglia, 
which  disclosed  many  interesting  details  that  had  been  buried 
in  the  sand  of  ages.  On  a  stone  platform,  between  the  fore 
paws,  was  discovered  a  block  of  granite,  fourteen  feet  by 
seven,  and  two  feet  thick,  highly  embellished  with  sculptures 
in  base  relief ;  and  on  the  second  digit  of  the  paw,  lying  to¬ 
wards  the  south,  was  formed  a  Greek  inscription  deeply  cut. 
But  these,  together  with  the  two  temples,  one  between  the 
legs,  and  the  other  hollowed  out  in  one  of  the  paws,  as  dis¬ 
covered  by  Belzoni,  are  no  longer  visible,  by  reason  of  the 
rapid  and  large  accumulation  of  sand.* 

*  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke  made  an  interesting  discovery  of  inscriptions  on 
the  Sphynx.  His  account  of  it  is  as  follows: — “  As  we  drew  near  to  view 
this  prodigious  colossus,  a  reddish  hue  was  discernible  over  the  whole  mass, 
quite  inconsistent  with  the  common  color  of  the  limestone  used  in  building 
the  Pyramids,  and  of  which  the  Sphynx  is  formed.  This  induced  us  to 
examine  more  attentively  the  superficies  of  the  statue ;  and  having  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  climbing  beneath  the  right  ear  of  the  figure,  where  the  surface 
had  never  been  broken,  nor  in  any  degree  decomposed  by  the  action  of  the 
atmosphere,  we  found,  to  our  great  surprise,  that  the  whole  had  once  been 
painted  of  a  dingy  red  or  blood  color,  like  some  of  the  stuccoed  walls  of 
the  houses  in  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum.  Upon  this  painted  surface  there 
was  also  an  inscription;  but  so  concealed  by  its  situation  beneath  the  enor¬ 
mous  ear  of  the  Sphynx,  and  so  out  of  the  reach  of  observers  viewing  the 
statue  from  below,  that  no  notice  has  yet  been  taken  of  it  by  any  preceding 
traveller ....  It  bears  the  characteristic  of  a  high  antiquity  in  the  manner 
of  applying  the  writing.  There  is  a  passage  in  the  book  of  Deutoronomy, 


112 


PYRAMIDS  Or  GHISEH. 


It  was  indeed  something  to  know,  on  quitting  this  seen© 
of  hoar  antiquity,  that  our  feet  had  trodden  the  spot,  and  our 
eyes  had  gazed  on  objects,  which  have  rivetted  the  attention 
of  the  mightiest  and  the  noblest  men  of  all  ages.  There  has 
not  been  a  conqueror  pre-eminently  distinguished  in  the  his¬ 
tory  of  the  world,  from  the  days  of  Cambyses,  down  to  the 
invasion  of  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  who  withheld  the  tribute 
of  his  admiration  from  the  genius  of  the  place.  The  vanity 
of  Alexander  was  so  piqued  by  the  overwhelming  impression 
of  their  majesty,  that  nothing  less  than  being  ranked  among 
the  gods  of  Egypt  could  elevate  him  sufficiently  above  the 
pride  of  the  monarchs  by  whom  they  were  erected.  When 
Germanicus  had  subdued  the  Egyptian  empire,  and  seated  “  a 
Roman  prsefect  upon  the  splendid  throne  of  the  Ptolemies,” 
being  unmindful  of  repose  or  triumph,  the  antiquities  of  the 
country  engaged  all  his  attention.  The  humblest  pilgrim, 
pacing  the  Lybian  sands  around  them,  while  he  is  conscious 
that  he  walks  in  the  footsteps  of  so  many  mighty  and  re¬ 
nowned  men,  imagines  himself  to  be  for  an  instant  admitted 
into  their  illustrious  conclave.  Persian  satraps,  Macedonian 
heroes,  Grecian  bards,  sages  and  historians,  Roman  warriors, 
all — of  every  age  and  nation  and  religion,  have  participated, 
in  common  with  him,  the  same  feelings,  and  have  trodden  the 
same  ground.  Every  spot  that  he  beholds,  every  stone  on 
which  he  rests  his  weary  limbs,  has  witnessed  the  coming  of 
men,  who  were  the  fathers  of  law,  of  literature,  and  of  the 
arts.  Orpheus,  Musoeus,  Homer,  Lycurgus,  Solon,  Pythago¬ 
ras,  Plato,  Plutarch,  contributed  by  their  presence  to  the  dig¬ 
nity  of  the  place.* 


which  proves  that  the  custom  of  writing  upon  plaister,  existed  in  the  fif¬ 
teenth  century  before  the  Christian  era.  The  Israelites  are  thus  instructed 
to  write  the  law  ;  and  it  is  very  probable  that  Moses  had  learnt  the  art  from 
the  Egyptians  : — ‘  Thou  shall  set  thee  up  great  stones,  and  plaister  them  with 
plaister:  and  thou  shalt  write  upon  them  all  the  words  of  the  law .’ — Deut. 
xxvii.  2,  3.  The  two  first  lines  are  Coptic ;  the  rest  is  Arabic.  The  char¬ 
acters  were  of  considerable  size ;  and  they  were  inscribed  in  black  paint, 
upon  the  red  surface  of  the  statue.” — Travels  of  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke ,  Vol.  v.* 
pp.  200—3. 

*  See  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke. 


THE  CAMEL — CAMEL-RIDING. 


113 


We  returned  to  Cairo  by  the  same  route  through  which  we 
had  approached  the  Pyramids  of  Ghiseh — often  turning  back 
to  catch  another  and  a  last  glance  of  objects  so  venerable,  on 
which  we  could  not  expect  that  our  eyes  would  ever  rest 
again.  The  impression  made  on  my  mind,  will,  I  think, 
never  be  obliterated. 

The  time  for  our  departure  for  Mount  Sinai  being  near  at 
hand,  I  ordered  the  camel  destined  for  my  service  in  the 
expedition  to  be  brought,  that  I  might  have  an  opportunity 
of  trying  his  paces,  and  acquainting  myself  with  all  that  was 
needful  to  be  known  in  reference  to  a  mode  of  travelling  so 
novel  to  European  habits.  It  was  a  gentle  and  docile  beast. 
When  preparing  for  his  burthen,  the  camel  is  made  to  kneel 
down  on  all  fours ;  and  his  legs  are  so  constructed  as  to  give 
an  idea  of  his  being  packed  up  to  be  stowed  away  in  a  case. 
The  knees  and  hocks  are  fortified  by  a  hard  horny  substance, 
to  prevent  injury  during  this  process :  and  on  the  chest  be¬ 
tween  the  fore  legs,  is  a  projection  of  the  same  kind,  of  about 
six  or  eight  inches  in  depth,  presenting  a  circular  surface  of 
about  a  foot  in  diameter,  which  rests  upon  the  earth,  and 
seems  to  afford  support  to  the  whole  body  while  receiving  its 
load.  Over  the  hump  is  placed  an  elevated  saddle,  on  which 
you  spread  your  segaddeh,  or  any  thing  you  please  in  ad¬ 
dition,  to  make  the  seat  convenient,  and  it  becomes  perfectly 
e'aty  to  take  up  your  position.  When  you  are  fairly  seated, 
the  camel  first  rises  half  way  on  his  hind  legs — flinging  you, 
by  a  sudden  movement,  so  forward,  that,  without  great  care, 
it  is  probable  enough  you  may  fall  upon  the  low  curve  of  his 
neck,  and  thence  to  the  ground.  He  next  rises  entirely  upon 
his  fore  legs,  and  by  a  third  effort  gathers  up  his  hind  ones — • 
and  there  you  are,  mounted  up  to  a  lofty  height,*  above  the 
crowds  of  people — doubtful,  at  first,  whether  your  new  position 

*  The  average  height  of  the  camel,  measured  from  the  top  of  the  hump, 
is  between  six  and  seven  feet ;  but  from  the  crown  of  the  head,  when  fully 
elevated,  it  is  nearly  nine  feet.  The  head  is,  however,  usually  so  carried 
as  to  be  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  hump,  or  rather,  if  anything,  below  it — 
the  animal  bending  its  neck  considerably,  in  its  general  posture.  Tha 
Egyptian  camels  are  much  taller  and  stronger  than  those  bred  and  used  in 
the  Arabian  Desert. 


10* 


114 


THE  CAMEL. 


will  be  perfectly  tenable,  when  the  long,  sweeping,  sailing 
step  shall  commence.  When  yon  intend  to  dismount,  the 
creature  performs  the  reverse  of  his  ceremony  of  rising — • 
going  down  first  on  his  knees.*  It  certainly  is  an  embarrass* 
ing  affair  at  first.  When  mounted,  you  take  in  your  hand  a 
halter,  made  of  camel’s  hair,  fastened  to  an  iron  ring  going 
round  the  nose  of  the  animal — your  only  bridle  ;  and  it  is 
strange  to  see  his  long  neck  and  uplifted  nose  so  far  in  ad¬ 
vance  of  your  saddle.  And  then  he  seems  to  amuse  himself 
by  looking  inquiringly  from  right  to  left — gazing  upon  every 
thing  and  everybody  in  the  most  deliberate  manner;  and 
sometimes  bending  and  swinging  round  his  slender  neck,  he 
turns  and  looks  his  rider  in  the  face.  1  rode  onwards  for  an 
hour  or  so,  towards  Shubra  ;  and  on  my  return,  found  that 
the  long  step  and  unwieldy  gait  of  the  camel  taxes  rather 
smartly,  at  first,  the  muscles  of  the  back,  neck  and  shoulders 
of  the  rider. 

Of  all  the  natural  objects  of  interest  and  novelty,  perhaps 
there  is  nothing  that  more  arrested  my  attention  than  the 
camel — its  nature  and  habits ;  and  the  evidence  which  it  con¬ 
stantly  afforded  of  the  adaptive  providence  of  God.  It  seems 
to  have  been  designed  and  constructed  for  a  desert  life — for 
its  toils  and  its  privations.  Of  all  bulky  animals,  perhaps  it 
is  satisfied  with  the  least  food,  and  the  coarsest.  It  never  eat§ 
greedily,  but  like  one  who  simply  desires  to  sustain  life.  In 
forming  a  caravan  for  the  Desert,  the  Arabs  usually  carry 
with  them  a  supply  of  beans,  as  the  most  convenient  portable 
food  for  their  cattle ;  but  these  are  not  used  when  the  valleys 
supply  coarse  herbage  of  any  kind,  or  the  sharp,  thorny  tree 
which  produces  the  gumarabic  ;  of  the  leaves  of  which, 
stripped  off  in  the  most  careful  and  dextrous  manner,  they 
make  a  contented  meal.  The  capability  of  travelling  many 
days  without  fresh  supplies  of  water,  affords  another  and  well 
known  instance  of  the  peculiar  adaptation  of  the  camel  to  a 
desert  life  ;  added  to  which,  the  remarkaole  patience  depicted 
in  the  very  countenance,  and  visible  in  all  its  demeanor,  can* 

*  See  Gen.  xxiv.  11 


THE  CAMEL. 


115 


n**c  fail  to  impress  the  traveller  with  a  sense  of  wise  design 
on  the  part  of  the  Creator. 

The  feet  of  the  camel  are  large,  and  their  hoofs  are  con 
structed  in  a  very  peculiar  manner,  being  divided  above  into 
two  lobes,  the  extremity  of  each  protected  by  distinct  and 
separate  small  hoofs.  The  structure  of  the  whole  foot  gives 
very  much  the  idea  of  being  formed  of  india  rubber ;  and 
seems  to  have  a  remarkable  power  of  contracting  and  expand¬ 
ing,  so  as  to  adapt  itself  to  the  varieties  of  surface  to  which  it 
may  be  applied.  The  under  part  of  the  foot  is  soled  with  a 
tough  and  pliable  skin,  which  by  yielding  in  all  directions, 
and  not  admitting  easily  of  laceration,  enables  the  animal  to 
pass  with  peculiar  ease  and  security  over  dry,  hot,  sandy,  and 
stony  regions  and  mountain  passes  of  great  difficulty,  which, 
otherwise,  would  soon  parch  and  destroy  the  hoof. 

We  learn  from  holy  scripture  that  a  great  part  of  patriarchal 
wealth  consisted  in  camels.  Job  at  first  had  three  thousand ; 
but,  after  the  termination  of  his  sore  trials,  that  number  was 
doubled.  And  even  now,  the  Bedaween  Arabs  estimate  their 
wealth,  by  the  numbers  which  they  possess,  of  these  animals ; 
so  that  in  speaking  of  the  riches  of  any  one,  they  say  he  has 
so  many  camels. 

Under  the  usual  burthens,  camels — “ships  of  the  desert”* 
as  the  Arabs  call  them — will  travel  with  ease  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  miles  per  day,  allowing  ten  hours  (halting  frequently 
at  mid-day),  for  the  season  of  activity  and  locomotion.  In 
cases  of  necessity,  even  more  than  this  is  sometimes  accom 
plished.  But  the  Arabs  are,  in  the  main,  careful  of  their 
camels ;  and  when  dividing  and  adjusting  the  baggage  and 
furniture  of  travellers,  will  wrangle  and  contend  about  the 

*  The  following  extracts  from  Arabian  Poets,  given  by  Sir  William 
Jones,  convey  the  idea  involved  in  this  epithet: — 

“  Even  now,  she  (the  camel)  has  a  spirit  so  brisk,  that  she  flies  with  the 
rain,  like  a  clear  cloud,  driven  by  the  wind,  after  it  has  discharged  its 
shower. 

“  Long  is  her  neck  ;  and  when  she  raises  it  with  celerity,  it  resembles 
the  stern  of  a  ship,  floating  aloft  on  the  billowy  Tigris. 

“  Ah !  the  vehicles  which  bore  away  my  fair  one,  on  the  morning  when 
the  tribe  of  Malee  departed,  and  their  camels  were  travelling  the  banks  Qt 
Deda,  resembled  large  ships.” 


116 


THE  CAMEL. 


smallest  article,  if  urged  to  add  it  to  a  load  which  they  deem 
already  sufficient  for  the  strength  of  the  animal.  Some  of 
the  noisiest  altercations  in  a  desert  route  are  occasioned  in 
this  way. 

Ii  was  in  the  afternoon  of  the  tenth  of  May,  when,  accord 
ing  to  the  arrangements  with  Sheikh  Suleiman,  our  baggage, 
provisions,  and  all  things  needful  for  the  journey  were  made 
ready  for  loading.  Our  Arabs  arrived  from  their  bivouac  on 
the  borders  of  the  Desert ;  and  the  busy  stir  of  preparation 
was  soon  sounding  in  our  ears.  Whatever  dangers  or  priva¬ 
tions  we  might  be  called  on  to  meet  or  endure  in  our  passage 
through  the  wilderness,  1  felt  that  then  the  die  was  cast.  It 
was,  to  me,  a  most  exciting  scene,  when  camels  and  their  wild 
attendants  crowded  the  quadrangular  court  of  our  habitation, 
and  the  plaintive  cries  and  moanings  of  the  poor  beasts  while 
receiving  their  various  allotments  of  burthen,  were  mingled 
with  the  harsh,  voluble,  guttural  squabblings  of  the  Bedaween. 
It  was  a  picture  of  strife  and  confusion  not  easy  to  be  realized, 
except  by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  oriental  manners 
and  habits.  At  length,  however,  all  was  fairly  adjusted ;  good 
humor  was  as  easily  restored  as  broken ;  and  the  loaded 
camels  and  their  swarthy  guardians,  with  Sheikh  Suleiman 
at  their  head,  wound  their  way  through  the  narrow  streets  of 
Cairo  (which  is  more  like  a  rabbit  warren  than  any  thing 
else),  to  await  our  arrival,  at  a  little  before  sunset,  on  the 
borders  of  the  Desert,  just  to  the  left  of  the  tombs  of  the  Sul¬ 
tans  ;  from  whence  our  cara'an  was  t:  move  with  the  early 
light  of  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  ARABIAN  DESERT. 

FROM  CAIRO  TO  MOUNT  SINAI. 


[Agparture  from  Cairo — Night-scene  in  the  Desert — Desert  of  Suez — Mirage — En¬ 
campment  in  the  Desert — Bedaween  Characteristics — Incidents — Red  Sea — Suez 
— Fountain — Superstitious  Practice— Suez — Passage  of  the  Red  Sea — Ayun 
Mousa,  the  Springs  of  Moses — Route  to  Mount  Sinai — Wadey  Werdan — Thirst — 
Precaution — Waters  of  Marah — Wadey  Ghurundel — Wilderness  of  Sin — Children 
of  Israel — Wadey  Usseit — Wadey  Thai — Wadey  Homrr — Wadey  Nassb— Arab 
Families — Ramel  Morekh — Wadey  Berah — Arab  Burial-Ground — Wadey  Sheikh 
— Sinaite  Group — Gebel  Serbal — Wadey  Hawy — Plain  of  El  Raha — Horeb — Sinai 
— Convent  of  Santa  Katarina— Chapel  of  the  Burning  Bush — Convent  Library — 
Catacomb — Shrine  of  Santa  Katarina — Ascent  of  Mount  Sinai — Mount  Sinai — 
Preparations  for  Departure. 

u  And  Pharaoh  rose  up  in  the  night,  he  and  all  his  ser¬ 
vants,  and  all  the  Egyptians ;  and  there  was  a  great  cry  in 
Egypt ;  for  there  was  not  a  house  where  there  was  not  one 
dead.  And  he  called  for  Moses  and  Aaron  by  night,  and 
said,  Rise  up,  and  get  you  forth  from  among  my  people,  both 
ye  and  the  children  of  Israel ;  and  go,  serve  the  Lord  as  ye 
have  said.  Also  take  your  flocks  and  your  herds,  as  ye  have 
said,  and  be  gone;  and  bless  me  also.  And  the  Egyptians 
were  urgent  upon  the  people,  that  they  might  send  them  out 
of  the  land  in  haste ;  for  they  said,  we  be  all  dead  men. 
And  the  people  took  their  dough  before  it  was  leavened, 
their  kneading  troughs  being  bound  up  in  their  clothes 
upon  their  shoulders.  *  *  #  And  the  children 

of  Israel  journeyed  from  Rameses  to  Succoth,  about  six 
hundred  thousand  on  foot  that  were  men,  besides  children. 
And  a  mixed  multitude  went  up  also  with  them ;  and  flocks, 
and  herds,  even  very  much  cattle.  #  *  *  And  ^ 


118 


ARABIAN  DESERT. 


came  to  pass,  when  Pharaoh  had  let  the  people  go,  that  God 
led  them  not  through  the  way  of  the  land  of  the  Philistines, 
although  that  was  near ;  for  God  said,  lest  peradventure  the 
people  repent,  when  they  see  war,  and  they  return  unto 
Egypt.  But  God  led  the  people  about  through  the  way  of 
the  wilderness  of  the  Red  Sea.  And  the  children  of  Israel 
went  up  harnessed  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt.  *  *  * 

And  they  took  their  journey  from  Succoth,  and  encamped  in 
Etham,  in  the  edge  of  the  wilderness.  And  the  Lord  went 
before  them  by  day  in  a  pillar  of  a  cloud,  to  lead  them  the 
way ;  and  by  night  in  a  pillar  of  fire,  to  give  them  light ;  to 
go  by  day  and  night.  He  took  not  away  the  pillar  of  the 
cloud  by  day,  nor  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  from  before  the 
people.”* 

With  a  record  such  as  this  for  the  mind  to  dwell  on  ;  with 
the  history  of  God’s  ancient  people  in  our  memories  ;  with 
the  land  of  their  cruel  bondage  stretching  around  us ;  and 
with  their  desert  route  awaiting  us,  it  maybe  easily  imagined 
that  the  commencement  of  our  journey  occasioned  many  a 
deep  emotion.  History  became  reality  indeed,  as  we  pre¬ 
pared  to  follow  in  the  track  of  the  six  hundred  thousand  res¬ 
cued  Israelites,  and  the  mixed  multitude  which  went  up  with 
them.  The  pillar  of  the  cloud  indeed  was  no  longer  visible 
by  day,  nor  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night ;  but  yet  the  God  of 
Israel  was  with  us  in  the  gospel  of  his  dear  Son — a  better 
manifestation  than  ever  Israel  had  witnessed  in  the  days  of 
their  wanderings.  And  this  was  enough  to  bear  us  up,  in  the 
prospect  of  any  thing  that  might  await  us  in  the  unopened 
future — either  of  danger,  difficulty,  or  privation.  It  was  a 
solemn  time  indeed,  when,  bidding  farewell  to  human  habita¬ 
tions,  we  prepared  to  go  forth  upon  the  scene  of  Israel’s  pil¬ 
grimage — the  homeless  waste — the  houseless  abode  of  men 
of  the  wandering  spirit  and  the  untiring  foot.  How  far 
— how  very  far  distant  did  home,  and  the  scenes  and  pur¬ 
suits  and  dear  objects  of  home,  appear,  while  the  mind 
grasped  at  the  fact,  that  there  was  the  marvellous  exo- 

*  Exodus  xii.  30 — 34, 37,  38;  xiii.  17,  18,  20 — 22. 


DEPARTURE  FROM  CAIRO. 


119 


dus  of  Israel  commenced ;  and  that  there  Jehovah  inter¬ 
posed  on  their  behalf  to  break  the  shackles  of  heartless  ty¬ 
ranny. 

The  sun  was  getting  low  in  the  horizon,  and  casting 
lengthened  shadows,  as  we  wound  slowly  along  the  crowded 
streets  of  Cairo,  towards  the  gate  called  Bab-en-Nasr ,  which 
opened  upon  the  skirts  of  the  desert.  We  passed  on  in  si¬ 
lence,  having  on  our  right  the  crumbling  remains  of  the 
tombs  of  the  Sultans — dome  and  tower  all  yielding  to  the 
touch  of  time,  and  powdered  with  the  sand-drifts  of  the  wil¬ 
derness.  The  sun  was  bathing  in  his  last  gorgeous  rays  the 
mosques  and  minarets  of  the  ancient  city,  and  illuminating 
the  land  of  Goshen,*  which  stretched  out,  with  its  flat  and 
still  green  and  productive  surface,  yet  further  on  our  left ; 
while  the  cloudless  sky  overhung  us  like  a  canopy  of  richly 
tinted  velvet.  We  soon  descried  our  little  encampment  in 
the  distance  ;  and  in  about  half  an  hour  were  in  the  midst  of 
our  Bedaween  party,  who  had  already  begun  to  light  their 
evening  fires,  and  freed  their  camels  from  their  burthens. 
There,  in  the  midst,  stood  the  tent  which  was  to  be  our  desert- 
home,  already  pitched  for  our  reception  ;  and  as  we  advanced, 
Sheikh  Suleiman,  arrayed  in  his  smartest  attire,  came  forth 
to  receive  us  with  every  indication  of  respectful  bearing, 
How  new — how  strange  was  all  this  scene  ;  and  these  were 
to  be  our  companions — these  wild  and  houseless  men — for 
many  a  long  day,  and  for  many  a  weary  league.  They  had 
provided  no  tents — they  needed  none.  The  sand  was  their 
bed — the  midnight  sky  their  canopy.  Our  caravan  consisted 

*  A  greater  variety  of  conjectures  than  the  simplicity  of  the  subject  re¬ 
quires  has  been  offered,  as  to  the  precise  locality  of  the  land  of  Goshen. 
One  of  the  clearest  proofs  that  it  lay  along  the  east  side  of  the  Pelusiac 
branch  of  the  Nile,  which  is  the  most  easterly  branch  of  the  river,  arises 
out  of  the  fact — that  the  Israelites  on  their  departure  from  Egypt,  did  not 
pass  over  the  Nile ;  and  we  therefore  readily  assume  that  it  must  have  in¬ 
cluded  the  district  of  Heliopolis,  which  lay  on  the  eastern  border  of  the 
Delta.  The  land  of  Goshen  was  certainly  the  best  pasture  ground  of 
Lower  Egypt,  and  well  adapted  for  pastoral  pursuits;  for  Joseph  recom¬ 
mended  it  to  his  family,  as  “the  best  of  the  land;”  (Gen.  xlvii.  11)  and 
Pharaoh  promised  to  give  them  “  the  good  of  the  land  of  Egypt,”  and  the 
“fat  of  the  land.”  Gen.  xlv.  18,  20. 


120 


NIGHT-SCENE  IN  THE  DESERT. 


of  fourteen  camels  altogether,  including  those  destined  to  bear 
our  baggage,  and  those  provided  for  us  and  our  servants  to 
ride.  It  was  a  noble  beast  which  owned  Sheikh  Suleiman  as 
its  master. 

We  spent  a  few  minutes  amidst  the  party — received  and 
exchanged  salutations,  and  then,  walking  up  upon  an  ele¬ 
vated  ridge  of  rocky  soil  over  against  our  encampment,  took 
a  parting  glance  at  the  ancient  city  of  Cairo.  The  evening 
was  closing  charmingly,  and  soon  the  picture  became  sha¬ 
dowy  and  distant ;  for  in  the  east  there  is  but  a  short — scarcely 
any — interval  of  twilight  between  sunset  and  darkness.* 
Turning  from  the  city,  we  looked  down  from  the  other  side 
of  the  hill  upon  our  little  encampment.  How  wild  and  gip- 
sey-like  it  appeared  ;  and  the  loud  laugh,  and  the  break  of 
hearty  voices,  mingling  with  the  moaning  of  camels,  fell  with 
a  sense  of  strange  novelty  on  our  ears,  while  we  counted  the 
blazing  fires  kindled  for  the  evening  meal,  illuminating  the 
picturesque  persons  of  our  Bedaween,  and  their  animals 
gathered  around  them.  We  turned  to  our  tent,  which  we 
found  comfortably  arranged  for  us,  by  servants  who  knew  the 
nature  of  desert  wants  and  how  to  supply  them.  In  the  mid¬ 
dle  was  suspended  an  Arab  lamp,  above  a  camp  table.  Mat¬ 
ting  and  carpets  were  spread  upon  the  sand.  Our  mattresses 
and  slight  bedding  were  placed  on  either  side  ;  and  such  of 
our  baggage  as  we  might  want  for  the  night,  placed  within 
our  reach.  It  was  a  snug,  cheerful  little  home. 

Having  arranged  with  Sheikh  Suleiman  to  commence  the 
march  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  we  betook  ourselves 
to  our  repose  ;  but  though  I  felt  every  assurance  of  safety, 
from  the  known  fidelity  of  Arabs  when  acting  as  an  escort, 
yet  the  novelty  of  position,  and  the  multitude  of  thoughts 
crowding  continually  upon  my  mind,  kept  me  restless  and 
wakeful ;  while  the  sound  of  camels,  and  the  fitful  talk  of  the 

*  “  The  sun’s  rim  dips ;  the  stars  rush  out, 

At  one  stride  comes  the  dark.” 

Coleridge' s  Ancient  Mariner. 


DESERT  OF  SUEZ. 


121 


appointed  watchers  and  guards,  were  perpetually  falling  on 
the  ear. 

May  11th. — The  sun  was  just  tinging  the  horizon  with 
his  first  rays  of  promise,  when  we  were  summoned  from  our 
couches,  to  prepare  for  the  commencement  of  the  journey. 
The  first  loading  is  always  a  tedious  matter.  Baggage  has 
to  be  adapted  and  re-adapted,  again  and  again,  before  satis¬ 
faction  pervades  the  caravan.  At  length,  every  one  of  the 
escort — having  charge  of  certain  articles — is  enabled,  after 
each  halting,  to  select  from  the  mass  every  thing  for  which 
he  is  responsible,  and  for  which  a  fitting  place  has  been  found 
on  the  back  of  his  camel.  The  preparation,  however,  was  in 
due  time  made ;  and  amidst  Sheikh  Suleiman’s  loud  and 
repeated  cry  of  u  Yellah — yellati ’  (make  haste  and  be  going), 
we  mounted  our  camels,  which  were  kneeling  on  the  sand 
ready  to  receive  us.  On  the  saddle,  both  in  front  and  be¬ 
hind,  there  is  a  stout  upright  wooden  pin,  or  peg,  on  which 
are  slung  such  matters  as  the  traveller  may  happen  to  want 
at  any  moment  during  the  march.  In  front,  I  had  a  firm 
walking  staff,  an  Arab  umbrella,  and  a  porous  earthen  bottle 
containing  fresh  water  from  the  Nile.  Behind,  were  slung 
pistols  and  a  sabre  (for  the  shew  of  arms  is  positively  neces¬ 
sary,  even  for  men  of  peace),  and  a  small  case  containing 
books  and  writing  materials.  It  was  just  seven  o’clock  when 
we  began  to  move,  and  bade  farewell  to  our  first  desert-home 
on  the  sand.  The  usual  route  to  the  gulph  of  Suez,  follow¬ 
ing  the  track  of  the  children  of  Israel,  so  clearly  indicated  in 
Scripture,*  occupies  four  days,  if  traversed  at  the  ordinary 
camel-pace,  of  nearly  three  miles  an  hour. 

The  silence  and  solitary  aspect  of  the  Desert — though  still 
so  near  to  the  borders  of  Cairo,  had  an  impressive  effect  upon 
the  mind,  as  we  passed  onwards  by  way  of  Materieh,  on  the 
northern  side  of  a  graceful  and  picturesque  chain  of  hills, 
called  Gebel  Ataka,  with  the  warm  tinting  of  the  morning 
sun  resting  on  their  otherwise  gray  and  sombre  sides  and 
peaks.  The  path  was  well  tracked  by  the  footsteps  of  ages 

*  Exodus  xiv. 

11 


122 


DESERT  OF  SUEZ. 


— for  it  is  by  this  way  that  the  grand  Hadj  makes  its  exit 
from  Cairo.  Perhaps  the  romance  of  the  scene  may  be  some¬ 
what  broken  by  the  occasional  traces  of  carriage  wheels, 
which  are  now  no  strangers  to  the  Desert  of  Suez,  as  con¬ 
nected  with  the  bo-d  undertaking  of  the  overland  passage  to 
India.  Such  are  the  convenient  arrangements  made,  that 
travellers  coming  direct  from  India,  however  delicate  or 
enfeebled  in  health,  may  find  themselves  transported  from  the 
shores  of  the  Red  Sea  to  Cairo,  with  almost  all  the  ordinary 
comforts  of  an  European  route.  Of  course,  in  such  an  ex¬ 
pedition  as  ours,  we  preferred,  on  all  accounts,  the  ancient 
mode  of  travelling.  This  route,  like  all  those  of  the  Hadj 
caravans,  has  scattered  about  it,  at  every  few  miles,  the  sad 
and  impressive  memorials  of  suffering  and  death.  The  bones 
of  camels,  bleached  by  the  sun  and  the  breezes  of  the  Desert, 
and  the  occasional  hillocks,  with  piled  up  stones  marking  the 
last  earthly  reposing  place  of  many  a  hapless  pilgrim,  fill  the 
mind  sometimes  with  anxious  forecastings  of  thought  as  to 
what  may  still  await  the.  traveller  in  scenes  like  these. 

At  this  part  of  the  Desert,  occasional  patches  of  herbage, 
though  poor  and  stunted,  are  to  be  seen,  towards  which  the 
camels  stretch  down  their  long  necks  in  passing,  and  crop  a 
hasty  mouthful.  A  little  before  noon,  while  the  sun  in  his 
strength  was  bearing  down  upon  us,  we  saw  in  the  distance 
somewhat  which  had  the  appearance  of  a  charming  lake, 
with  its  beautiful  blue  waters,  as  if  reflecting  the  deep  azure 
of  the  sky.  It  was  studded  here  and  there  with  tufts  and 
clumps  of  trees,  in  the  midst  and  on  its  banks.  Sometimes 
its  waters  seemed  to  sparkle  in  the  sun  ;  and  though  I  knew 
it  to  be  the  Mirage  *  and  not  really  water  springing  up  and 

*  The  Arabs  call  the  Mirage,  Serab;  which  agrees  with  the  Hebrew 
jnc?;  and  in  both  languages,  it  means  a  glowing,  sandy  plain ;  which, 
in  hot  countries,  at  a  distance,  has  the  appearance  of  water.  There  are 
in  Scripture  several  allusions  to  it;  such  as  Isaiah  xxxv.  7,  which  Bishop 
Lowth  translates — “ the  glowing  sand  shall  become  a  pool;”  and  also  Jere¬ 
miah  xv.  18,  “Why  is  my  pain  perpetual,  and  my  wound  incurable,  which 
refuseth  to  be  healed  I  Wilt  thou  be  altogether  unto  me  as  a  liar,  and  as 
waters  that  fail?”  (Margin,  “6e  not  sure.”)  In  the  Koran,  chap.  xxiv. 
We  find  a  similar  allusion — “  But  as  to  unbelievers,  their  works  are  like  a 


MIRAGE. 


123 


flowing-  in  the  Desert,  yet  it  seemed  t;  provoke,  most  keenly, 
the  sense  of  thirst ;  and  almost  impelled  me  to  press  forward 
and  seek  a  refreshing  draught  at  its  margin.  The  appear¬ 
ance  continued  for,  perhaps,  nearly  half  an  hour.  Our  atten¬ 
tion  was  at  length  diverted  by  some  other  object.  We 
looked  again,  and  it  was  gone  ;  and  the  far-stretching  surface 
of  the  sand  spoke  only  of  aridity  and  dearth.  I  witnessed 
other  instances  of  Mirage,  while  in  Syria  ;  and  one  in  particu¬ 
lar,  far  more  picturesque  than  that  which  I  have  already 
mentioned.  It  presented  the  idea  of  a  richly  wooded  island 
in  the  midst  of  the  lake,  and  stately  buildings  on  its  banks ; 
and  even  the  waves,  as  if  agitated  by  a  breeze,  seemed  to  be 
perpetually  swelling  and  flowing,  not  towards  the  brink,  as 
with  real  water,  but  in  the  opposite  direction.  So  far  as  I 
could  learn,  the  Arabs  have  no  theory  as  to  the  cause  of  this 
phenomenon  :  perhaps  they  have  never  had  sufficient  motive 
for  inquiring.  Sir  John  Chardin  and  others,  speak  of  it  as 
the  effect  of  the  repercussion  of  the  sun’s  rays  from  the  sand 
of  the  Desert.  It  generally  has  the  flickering  appearance 
of  a  landscape  seen  through  the  columns  of  heat  and  vapor 
proceeding  from  a  brick-kiln  or  furnace. 

It  was  soon  after  we  had  been  gratified  by  this  appearance, 
that  we  halted,  and  pitched  the  tents  for  our  noontide  rest  and 
meal.  Throughout  the  Desert  journey,  we  usually  were 
in  motion  between  five  and  six  in  the  morning  ;  halted  from 
half-past  ten  or  eleven,  till  about  three  ;  and  then  proceeded 
till  an  hour  or  two  after  sunset,  or  as  long  after  as  the  pros¬ 
pect  of  finding  water,  when  such  occurred,  might  render  it 
needful.  Many  days,  however,  sometimes  elapse  without 
finding  any;  but  the  Bedaween  are  well  acquainted  with 
those  spots  to  which  hope  may  be  directed  ;  and  they  cleverly 
arrange  distances,  so  as  to  reach  the  fountain  at  the  proper 
halting  time.  Our  first  day’s  route  was  comfortably  made : 
and  on  the  second,  with  the  range  of  Gebel  Ataka  still  on 
our  right,  we  proceeded  along  the  waste  of  the  Desert,  with 

vapor  in  a  plain,  which  the  thirsty  traveller  thinketh  to  be  water,  until, 
when  he  cometh  thereto,  he  findeth  it  to  be  nothing.” 


124 


DESERT  OF  SUEZ - DYING  CAMEL. 


nothing  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  scene.  Yet,  it  was 
something  to  know  that  there — on  that  very  spot,  the  pillar 
of  the  cloud  by  day,  and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  had  led 
the  people  of  Israel  in  the  way  of  their  wondrous  deliverance. 

Two  or  three  hours  before  our  halting  time  for  the  night, 
we  observed  at  a  distance,  in  advance  of  us,  a  solitary  camel. 
One  of  our  Arabs  quickened  his  pace  and  rode  towards  it ; 
and  when  we  arrived,  we  found  that  it  was  unattended  by 
any  owner,  and  in  the  last  stage  of  disease  and  death.  The 
poor  animal  seemed  to  be  excited  for  a  moment  by  the  arrival 
of  our  caravan ;  and,  looking  wishfully  towards  us,  made  an 
effort  to  move,  as  if  to  join  us.  It  had  evidently  been  left 
there  to  die ;  as  the  Arabs,  I  believe,  never  think  of  despatch 
ing  a  worn-out  and  diseased  camel  for  the  purpose  of  shorten 
ing  its  sufferings.  It  was  an  affecting  picture.  We  moved 
on — and  again  the  poor  beast  made  an  effort  to  follow,  but  in 
vain.  By  this  time  its  bones  are  whitening  in  the  sun. 

At  the  close  of  the  third  day,  we  pitched  under  a  ridge  of 
hills,  near  the  little  fortress  of  Ajeroud,  a  few  miles  north¬ 
ward  of  Suez.  This  is  one  of  the  regular  fortresses,  at  which 
are  kept  stores  for  the  supply  of  the  Hadj  caravan.  It  is  in¬ 
significant  in  itself,  to  afford  protection  against  any  but  the 
Bedaween  ;  and  so  long  as  they  are  in  the  service  of  the  Pa¬ 
sha  of  Egypt,  as  conductors  of  the  caravan,  a  fortress  of  paste¬ 
board  would  be  enough. 

o 

Sheikh  Suleiman  had  taken  a  great  liking  to  the  Arab  cos¬ 
tume  which  I  wore,  as  was  evident  from  his  frequently  taking 
some  part  of  it  in  his  hands — smoothing  it  with  the  palm,  and 
saying  “  tayeeb,  tayeeb  and,  often  placing  himself  erect  be¬ 
side  me  and  pointing  to  his  own  person,  gave  the  clearest 
intimations  of  his  opinion  that  it  would  suit  and  become  him 
exactly.  The  Arabs  are  exceedingly  fond  of  multiplying 
wearing  apparel ;  and  the  richer  it  may  be,  the  better  it  suits 
their  taste,  although,  while  in  the  Desert,  they  are  content 
with  any  few  rags  they  may  have  in  their  saddle  bags.  Some 
of  them  are  said  to  have  large  stores  of  clothing  laid  up  in 
caves  and  holes  in  the  rocks.  Sheikh  Suleiman  did  not  fail 


ENCAMPMENT  IN  THE  DESERT. 


125 


afterwards  to  express,  through  our  interpreter,  his  hope  that  I 
would  make  him  happy  in  the  possession  of  my  dress,  at  the 
end  of  the  journey.  He  seemed  as  eager  as  a  child  for  a  fresh 
bit  of  finery. 

It  was  a  lovely  starlight  night,  when  we  dismounted  nea* 
the  little  fortress  of  Ajeroud.  The  heavenly  bodies  appeared 
pendent  in  the  firmament,  which  presented  to  view  a  far 
greater  number  of  stars  than  I  had  ever  seen  in  Europe. 
The  clearness  of  the  atmosphere,  of  course,  partly  accounts  for 
this.  And  how  picturesque  was  our  bivouac,  when  the  fires 
were  lighted,  and  our  wild  band,  flanked  by  their  camels, 
gathered  round  for  their  evening  meal,  with  their  chibouks, 
and  their  dreamy  and  monotonous  song.  Soon,  all  was  silent; 
and  the  downy  wing  of  repose  was  upon  every  eyelid.  I  can¬ 
not  say  how  deeply  affecting  it  was,  when  surrounded  by 
these  swarthy  strangers  of  another  creed,  to  spend  an  hour 
over  the  pages  of  imperishable  truth,  and  to  unite  in  prayer 
and  praise,  while  kneeling  on  the  sands  of  the  wilderness — 
bearing  on  our  hearts,  our  families,  our  friends,  and  our  flocks. 
Seldom  did  the  evening  close,  without  our  enjoying  together 
this  precious  Christian  privilege.  What  would  I  not  have 
given  to  have  been  able  to  unfold  the  mystery  of  redemption 
to  our  free-hearted  and  faithful  companions ;  and  by  the  power 
of  divine  grace  on  their  hearts,  to  have  had  them  bending  with 
us,  through  the  same  Mediator,  before  the  same  throne.  The 
confusion  of  tongues  !  oh,  what  a  melancholy  consequence  of 
man’s  pride,  sin,  and  rebellion  !  How  sad  the  thought  that 
the  Bible  should  be  a  closed  book  to  all  but  ourselves ;  and 
that  in  the  minds  of  these  wild  wanderers,  no  ray  of  divine 
illumination  was  shining  to  give  knowledge  of  the  “  truth  as 
it  is  in  Jesus.” 

The  Bedaween  had  already  won  my  good  opinion  ;  and  it 
was  not  long  ere  my  heart  yearned  over  them.  So  unpre¬ 
suming,  so  kindly  and  so  hearty  were  they  in  their  bearing 
towards  us  ;  so  ready  to  do  any  service  unsolicited,  and  so 
happy  when  they  saw  that  their  kindliness  gave  satisfaction. 
I  feel  now  as  if  I  could  traverse  the  whole  Desert  with  alaC' 

11* 


126 


BEDAWEEN  CHARACTERISTICS - INCIDENTS. 


rity,  with  a  party  of  faithful  Bedaween,  such  as  ours,  for  my 
escort.  There  is  not  a  man  in  Europe,  of  whatever  rank, 
who  might  not  possibly  be  a  gainer,  by  studying  and  imi¬ 
tating  much  that  may  be  discovered  in  the  Bedaween.  Wild 
birds  of  the  Desert  as  they  are — yet,  for  honesty  when  in  your 
service,  and  for  temperance  and  moral  feeling,  they  put  tc 
shame,  in  many  things,  the  masses  of  the  people  of  England 
around  whom  the  means  of  moral  culture  are  multiplied,  and 
for  whom  the  full  blaze  of  revelation  is  glowing. 

Our  Desert-fare  was  simple,  as  may  be  guessed  from  the 
catalogue  of  provisions  given  in  a  former  page.  Generally, 
it  consisted  of  vermicelli  soup,  and  a  dish  of  mutton,  or  goat’s 
flesh,  procured  whenever  we  came  within  reach  of  Bedaween 
flocks;  and  if  not  that,  a  pilau,  with  Arab  bread,  baked  on 
the  embers  at  the  door  of  the  tent,  or  thick  hard  biscuits  soak¬ 
ed  in  water,  and  broiled  over  the  fire.  A  draught  of  water, 
just  colored  with  brandy,  was  our  beverage.  A  cup  of  tea, 
brought  with  us  from  England,  was  the  delicious  and  refresh¬ 
ing  repast  of  the  evening,  and  then,  perhaps,  or  immediately 
after  dinner,  a  cup  of  coffee — with  a  whiff  of  the  mild  Latakia 
tobacco,  inhaled  from  the  long  cherry-stick  tubed  pipe  of  the 
east.  An  Arab  encampment  would  be  sadly  incomplete 
without  the  fragrant  fumes  of  Latakia,  and  the  gently  stimu¬ 
lating  production  of  the  coffee  pot.  < 

We  had  journeyed  from  Succoth,  and  were  now  pitched  in 
Etham. 

While  we  were  sitting  in  the  tent,  during  the  noontide  rest¬ 
ing  time,  I  was  struck  with  the  picturesque  recumbent  posture 
of  one  of  the  baggage-camels,  and  got  out  my  sketch-book  to 
secure  a  remembrance  of  it  by  a  few  hasty  lines.  I  had 
scarcely  finished,  ere  Sheikh  Suleiman  peeped  into  the  tent 
as  he  frequently  did,  to  make  his  salaam,  and  to  partake  of 
our  shade  and  coffee.  Musselmans  have  but  little  idea  of  the 
pictorial  art — the  more  especially  as  the  Koran  forbids  draw 
ing  and  sculpture,  as  tending  to  idolatry.  However,  I  in¬ 
stantly  presented  the  sketch  to  the  Sheikh,  as  an  experiment, 
to  see  whether  he  would  understand  it.  With  an  air  of  evi- 


INCIDENTS. 


127 


dent  surprise,  he  put  his  long  pipe  from  his  mouth — -suspended 
the  meditated  whiff,  and  holding  up  his  hands,  cried  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  “El  gimel — el  gimel — gimel  tayeeb”  (the  camel, 
the  camel,  the  good  camel).  While  he  held  up  the  drawing 
in  his  hand,  several  of  the  other  Bedaween  came  running  tc 
the  tent  door ;  and  as  soon  as  they  caught  a  glimpse — they, 
too,  exclaimed,  while  pointing  to  the  half-slumbering  subject 
of  it,  as  he  lay  chewing  his  cud — “  El  gimel” — pointing  out 
also  the  various  parts  of  the  camel-furniture  which  had  been 
represented  in  the  sketch.  By  this  time  the  Sheikh  had 
squatted  down,  in  the  Arab  fashion,  at  the  door  of  the  tent, 
and  I  thought  at  once  of  another  experiment;  so,  fixing  my 
eye  steadily  upon  him,  I  signed  to  him  to  keep  his  present 
posture,  with  his  pipe  replaced  in  his  mouth ;  and  then,  draw¬ 
ing  the  attention  of  the  other  Arabs,  I  bid  them  look  on,  and 
see  the  process.  I  succeeded  in  getting  a  rough,  but  tolerably 
correct  idea  of  Suleiman  himself,  in  a  few  minutes ;  and  when 
I  handed  it  to  the  Arabs,  they  cried  out  with  a  hearty  laugh, 
and  an  air  of  surprise — u  El  Sheikh — El  Sheikh” — while  one 
touched  his  pipe,  another  his  beard,  and  another  his  tarbouch, 
to  intimate  that  they  all  found  their  place  in  the  picture,  as 
the  necessary  appendage  of  his  Sheikship.  I  began  to  fear 
that  I  should  be  called  upon  to  sketch  the  whole  party ;  and 
truly  there  were  many  that  would  have  afforded  scope  for 
employment  to  the  pencil  of  a  skilful  painter. 

On  the  following  morning  we  mounted  at  about  six.  Su¬ 
leiman  arrayed  himself  in  his  full  costume,  and  made  a  detour 
alone  to  the  little  fortress  of  Ajeroud— probably  on  business 
connected  with  the  Egyptian  government.  He  had  the  bear¬ 
ing  of  a  bold,  noble  fellow,  as  he  sallied  forth  on  his  fine 
camel,  with  his  matchlock  slung  at  his  back,  and  his  showy 
robes  and  turban  of  cashmere,  the  colors  of  which  were 
vividly  brought  out  by  the  morning  sun.  We  pursued  the 
direct  route  towards  Suez,  with  scarcely  an  undulation  upon 
its  surface;  but  deeply  imprinted  with  the  camel-tracks  of 
many  a  by-gone  day.  The  heat  was  very  scorching  during 
the  morning’s  march,  yet  not  so  as  to  occasion  any  real.y  dis- 


128 


3EDAWEEN  KINDLINESS - RED  SEA,  ETC. 

tressing  sensation.  This  was  the  fourth  day  since  our  depar* 
ture  from  Cairo ;  and  the  poor  camels  had  not  met  with  a 
drop  of  water.  I  thought  they  seemed  to  increase  their  pace* 
as  if  aware  that  at  about  five  miles  distant  from  Suez  there 
was  a  fountain,  at  which  a  halt  is  usually  made  for  the  sake 
both  of  man  and  beast. 

As  we  were  passing  on,  t  was  much  pleased  with  a  little 
instance  of  delicate  attention  on  the  part  of  one  of  our  younger 
Bedaween.  There  is  occasionally  found  in  the  Desert  of 
Suez,  a  kind  of  gourd  exceedingly  bitter,  and  used  in  medi- 

At  this  season  of  the  year  these 
gourds  have  a  dry  light  brown  surface ;  and  when  gathered 
the  loose  seeds  within  rattle  as  if  shut  up  in  a  box.  I  looked 
down  from  my  camel,  as  I  passed  some  of  these  which  were 
thoroughly  ripened,  and  wished  to  procure  one  as  a  specimen ; 
but  I  passed  on  to  avoid  the  trouble  and  delay  of  dismounting. 
In  a  few  minutes,  I  felt  some  one  pulling  the  skirt  of  my 
mantle;  and  there  was  my  young  Arab  friend,  with  his  sunny 
countenance,  and  one  of  the  ripe  gourds  rattling  in  his  hand, 
which  he  presented  to  me  with  a  graceful  civility  of  manner. 
He  had  quickly  perceived  my  wish  as  I  glanced  at  the  gourds 
in  passing.  Here  was  good  breeding — in  the  wilds  of  the 
Desert.  He  also  presented  me  with  some  of  the  dried  fruit  of 
the  Nabbukh  tree,  which  grows  in  some  parts  of  the  Desert, 
and  abundantly  in  Syria.  This  fruit  is  much  eaten  by  the 
Arabs,  and  is  flavored  somewhat  like  dates. 

At  about  half-past  eight  o’clock,  we  caught  our  first  distant 
view  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  the  few  poor  buildings  which  con¬ 
stitute  the  port  of  Suez,  appearing  little  more  than  a  white 
speck.  In  advance  of  us,  and  several  miles  distant  from 
thence,  was  the  watering-place,  with  a  kind  of  tower  and  other 
buildings,  erected  for  the  protection  of  the  fountain.  But  it 
seemed  as  if  we  should  never  arrive;  for  in  the  Desert,  when 
there  is  a  point  of  sight  before  you,  footsteps  scarcely  seem  to 
tell  upon  it ;  and  besides,  there  is  a  little  growing  sense  of 
impatience  which  helps  the  annoying  idea  of  undiminished 
distance.  In  due  time,  however,  we  reached  the  wished-for 


cine.  It  is  colocynth. 


SUEZ - SUPERSTITIOUS  PRACTICE. 


129 


spot ;  and  I  confess  that  the  prospect  of  arriving  at  the  first 
fountain  in  the  Desert,  had  a  great  charm  for  me;  for  the 
Nile  water  in  our  skins  was  already  becoming  unpleasant. 
Besides,  I  was  desirous  of  seeing  the  oriental  customs  and 
habits  on  such  an  occasion.  The  Red  Sea  seemed  to  widen 
upon  us  as  we  advanced,  and  presented  a  surface  of  deep 
azure.  We  dismounted  the  instant  we  neared  the  fountain, 
while  each  Arab  took  possession  of  his  camel,  and  led  it  to  the 
spring.  The  water,  which  is  poor  and  brackish,  is  supplied 
for  them  in  a  deep  tank,  in  which  were  crowded  many  Arabs 
from  Suez,  filling  water  skins,  and  making  it  turbid  by  stir¬ 
ring  up  the  sand  from  the  bottom.  Some  of  the  camels  drank 
at  once  from  the  tank ;  but  for  others  there  was  no  room. 
The  Arabs  therefore  drew  up  water  for  them  in  wooden 
bowls,  which  they  always  carry  with  them,  and  which  serve 
for  various  purposes ;  amongst  others,  they  are  used  for  knead¬ 
ing  their  dough  when  they  bake  bread.  It  was  a  pleasant 
thing  to  observe  the  sense  of  refreshment,  and  the  perfect 
satisfaction  which  these  poor  animals  experienced,  while  lei¬ 
surely  filling  themselves  for  the  next  stage  of  the  journey. 

In  about  half  an  hour  we  mounted  again,  and  in  about  two 
hours  more,  reached  the  miserable  little  port  of  Suez.  The 
Bedaween  encamped  on  a  sloping  ground  outside  the  gate, 
with  whom  we  left  one  of  the  servants  to  take  charge  of  our 
possessions,  while  we  sought  shelter  for  the  night  within  the 
walls.  When  we  were  about  half  a  mile  from  this  halting- 
place,  one  of  our  young  Arabs  ran  off  at  a  rapid  pace  towards 
the  head  of  the  gulf  of  Suez,  from  whence  he  returned  with 
equal  celerity,  bringing  with  him  a  large  handful  of  black 
marie,  or  clay.  He  instantly  distributed  a  portion  of  it  to 
each  of  his  companions,  who  first  inserted  a  little  pebble  into 
each  nostril  of  his  camel,  and  then  a  small  lump  of  the  clay. 
On  enquiry,  I  found  this  to  be  an  Arab  custom  intended  to 
prevent  the  camels  being  sick  at  the  Red  Sea.  I  could  get  no 
further  explanation  of  so  strange  a  practice.  Having  ordered 
the  servants  to  purchase  and  present  a  sheep  to  our  Bedaween, 
for  their  private  consumption-  -a  customary  thing  on  reaching 


130 


SUEZ - SCHOOL. 


any  particular  stage  of  the  journey — we  passed  on,  and  soon 
found  ourselves  within  the  gates  of  Suez. 

The  overland  route  to  India  will,  if  perpetuated,  effect 
great  changes  in  the  general  character  of  Suez.  The  free  and 
frequent  admixture  of  Europeans  with  Orientals,  cannot  long 
continue  without  resulting  in  local  modifications.  The  orien¬ 
tal  character  and  habit  will  doubtless  stand  long  against  se¬ 
rious  innovation  of  any  kind  ;  but  a  new  spirit  of  enterprize 
will,  in  all  probability,  be  traced  by  and  by  in  the  minds  of 
those  with  whom  Suez  is  a  place  of  permanent  residence. 
Already  there  are  indications  of  progressive  change  ;  Euro¬ 
pean  habits  and  customs  are  becoming  prevalent ;  and  Euro¬ 
pean  establishments  are  springing  up  in  the  various  forms  of 
mercantile  speculativeness. 

The  external  appearance  of  the  place,  has,  I  imagine,  un 
dergone  but  little  alteration ;  for  it  bears  still  the  aspect  of 
most  of  the  smaller  oriental  towns.  No  architectural  spirit  is 
abroad  ;  no  local  tendency  to  improvement  appears  to  prevail. 
On  passing  the  gates,  you  enter  an  irregular  kind  of  square ; 
on  the  left  you  catch  a  view  of  the  sea,  with  a  small  dock¬ 
yard,  in  which  small  craft  are  built ;  on  the  right,  are  a  few 
poor  and  squalid-looking  buildings  and  a  khan.  Beyond  the 
square  is  a  long  principal  street,  leading  to  the  governor’s  resi¬ 
dence  ;  and  to  the  right  are  the  bazaars,  in  Which  are  assem¬ 
bled  all  varieties  of  the  oriental  family — meeting  as  in  a  point, 
from  which  diverge  many  of  the  Asiatic  and  African  routes. 
From  Suez,  guides  and  escorts  are  easily  obtainable  to  facili¬ 
tate  journeys  in  all  directions.  With  the  exception  of  the 
residences  of  the  governor  and  a  few  principal  inhabitants, 
the  houses  are  mean  habitations,  and  chiefly  built  of  bricks 
formed  of  mud,  and  baked  or  dried  in  the  sun.  While  pass¬ 
ing  along  among  some  of  these,  to  mark  the  domestic  habits 
of  the  people,  I  saw  a  small  school  with  about  a  dozen  or 
fourteen  children,  who  were  studying  with  all  their  might, 
and  with  no  small  sound,  the  Arabic  alphabet,  written  on  large 
boards,  set  up  before  them,  or  held  in  the  hand ;  while  the 


PASSAGE  OF  THE  RED  SEA.  131 

<.utor,  squatting  on  the  floor,  and  enveloped  in  clouds  of  to- 
oacco-smoke,  looked  on  in  silent  satisfaction. 

We  spent  one  night  at  Suez,  and  part  of  the  next  day. 
Early  in  the  morning  I  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  bathing  in  the 
beautiful  clear  waters  of  the  Red  Sea — the  refreshment  af¬ 
forded  by  which  was  almost  unspeakable,  after  four  days  of 
Desert  heat  and  fatigue.  Our  Bcdaween  had  started  early, 
taking  the  camels  with  them  round  the  head  of  the  gulph,  to 
a  certain  point  to  which  they  were  to  await  our  arrival.  We 
easily  obtained  a  suitable  boat;  and  at  about  three  o’clock  in 
the  afternoon,  were  upon  the  Red  Sea — the  scene  of  God’s 
wondrous  workings  on  behalf  of  his  chosen  people  Israel. 
W e  crossed  at  the  narrowest  part — a  part  which  is  sometimes 
fordable — and  considerably  nearer  to  the  head  of  the  gulph 
than  that  at  which  I  am  persuaded  the  people  of  Israel  passed. 
It  was  enough,  however,  to  know  that  we  were  certainly  not 
far  distant  from  a  spot  so  memorable.  As  I  lay  along  in  the 
boat,  I  read  the  divinely  recorded  narrative  of  Israel’s  deliver¬ 
ance — of  Pharaoh’s  discomfiture  and  overthrow ;  and  I  seem¬ 
ed  to  hear,  while  my  eye  rested  on  the  page,  the  triumphant 
chanting  of  that  noble  anthem  in  which  Moses  set  forth  the 
mighty  and  miraculous  achievement  of  Jehovah.* 

It  is  indeed  a  solemn  emotion  Avhich  pervades  the  mind  of 
a  Christian  man,  when  he  feels  that  he  is  on  some  spot  where 
the  miraculous  power  of  God  has  been  displayed — of  which 
he  has  no  doubt.  I  experienced  this  on  the  Nile,  which  had 
felt  the  presence  and  the  power  of  Jehovah,  when  it  ran  blood. 
I  experienced  it  here,  on  the  Red  Sea,  whose  waters,  in  obe¬ 
dience  to  a  divine  bidding,  had  stood  up  as  a  wall  on  either 
side  of  the  passage,  which  a  mighty  arm  had  opened  for  “  the 
redeemed  of  the  Lord”  to  pass  through.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
presence  of  God  had  not  been  withdrawn,  though  all  traces 
oi  the  miracle  had  passed  away,  and  the  order  of  nature  had 
returned. 

The  passage  over  the  Red  Sea,  occupied  but  little  more 
than  half  an  hour,  and  our  feet  were  then  treading  the  sands 

*  Exodus  xv. 


132  AYUN  MOUSA,  THE  SPRINGS  OF  MOSES. 

of  Asia.  Glancing  towards  the  African  shores,  which  we 
had  left,  the  scene  was  very  charming,  as  the  declining  sun 
rendered  more  massive  the  long  promontory  formed  by  Gebel 
Atakah,  Gebel  Deraj,  and  Ras  Mousa — the  promontory  of 
Moses.  On  reaching  the  Asiatic  shore,  we  turned  our  faces 
southward,  having  the  Red  Sea  on  our  right,  and  the  fore 
mentioned  mountains  about  Pihahiroth  beyond  it.  On  oul 
left,  was  the  long  range  of  Gebel-er-Rahhah,  shutting  out  the 
desert  of  El  Tih — the  “  desert  of  the  wandering.”  The 
Desert  route  before  us  was  flat,  sometimes  stony,  and  always 
sandy,  with  scarcely  a  blade  of  vegetation — an  ocean  of  sand. 
How  dreary  and  lifeless  was  the  prospect.  We  were  now 
in  the  wilderness  of  Shur,  the  Desert  separating  Egypt  and 
Palestine.* 

Three  of  the  Bedaween  were  in  waiting  with  our  camels 
for  riding,  which  we  mounted  immediately  after  crossing  the 
Red  Sea,  with  the  intention  of  reaching  Ayun  Mousa  (the 
springs  of  Moses),  as  the  place  of  encampment  for  the  night ; 
where  it  was  well  known  that  water  would  be  found,  far 
better  than  that  which  had  been  obtained  at  Suez.  One 
of  the  servants  and  the  rest  of  the  Bedaween  had  preceded 
us  thither,  in  order  to  get  the  tents  pitched,  and  all  other 
things  ready  for  our  halting.  A  ride  of  about  three  hours 
and  a  half  brought  us  to  the  fountains,  which  had  been  for 
some  time  indicated  by  a  few  wild  palm  trees,  very  conspicu¬ 
ous  in  the  distance ;  and  perhaps  the  accelerated  speed,  and 
the  outstretched  necks  of  the  camels,  gave,  us  a  like  intima¬ 
tion  ;  for  the  camel  is  said  to  have  the  faculty  of  discovering 
water  at  a  considerable  distance.  I  had  several  instances  of 
this  during  my  route. 

Ayun  Mousa  is  indeed  a  refreshing  spot  in  the  midst  of 
the  desert.  The  wells  are  preserved  with  great  care.  Amidst 
the  clumps  of  palm  trees  and  a  few  tamarisks,  I  found  some 
oleanders,  in  beautiful  blossom — doubly  precious  to  the  lover 
of  flowers,  on  account  of  the  barren  locality  in  which  they 
spread  forth  their  loveliness  to  greet  him.  Amidst  these  to 


*  Exodus  xv.  22. 


ROUTE  TO  MOUNT  STNAI - AYUN  MOUSA. 


133 


kens  of  vegetable  life,  we  found  our  tents  pitched — the  fires 
kindled,  and  the  escort  already  gathered  together  in  little  par¬ 
ties  for  the  evening.  On  our  arrival,  several  of  the  younger 
Arabs  came  to  meet  us  ;  and  one  in  particular,  from  whom  I 
had  received  several  civilities,  gave  me  a  cordial  sunny  smile, 
and  a  “  Salaam  aleicum”  (peace  be  to  you),  the  usual  saluta¬ 
tion,  and  pointing  to  the  wells,  proposed  to  lead  me  to  them. 

1  was  parched  and  thirsty  ;  so,  taking  a  large  cup  in  my  hand, 
and  joining  my  young  guide,  we  went  to  the  wells  together.  . 
I  dipped  my  cup  and  drank  my  draught ;  but  the  water  had 
a  saline  flavor,  or  as  if  it  held  in  solution  a  considerable  quan¬ 
tity  of  soda.  I  dipped  again,  and  handed  it  to  my  compan¬ 
ion.  He  was  pleased  by  the  civility,  smiled,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  his  heart  as  he  received  it.  I  pointed  to  an  oleander 
in  bloom,  which  was  just  at  hand.  He  instantly  gathered 
two  clusters  of  its  beautiful  flowers,  and  presented  them  to 
me.  Destitute  as  he  was  of  what  we  Europeans  call  cultiva¬ 
tion,  yet  I  am  sure  that  young  Arab  had  the  good  taste  of  a 
gentleman. 

I  am  much  inclined  to  believe  that  Ayun  Mousa  is  really 
the  spot  on  which  the  feet  of  rescued  Israel  rested,  and  from 
which  they  beheld  their  enemies  dead  on  the  sea-shore.  I 
do  not  say  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  is  so  distinctly  proved 
as  to  admit  of  no  doubt  or  question,  in  minds  disposed  to  cavil 
and  object ;  but  I  am  persuaded  that,  so  far  as  proof  can  go 
on  such  a  subject,  the  fact  may  be  considered  as  established 
— namely,  that  the  people  of  Israel  entered  their  pathway 
through  the  Red  Sea,  just  to  the  north  of  Ras  Atakah,  and 
that  they  passed  straight  onward  to  Ayun  Mousa.  From 
thence,  their  route  to  Mount  Sinai  lay  before  us. 

Surely  the  deliverance  of  Israel,  and  their  reception  of  the 
Divine  Law  at  the  foot  of  the  Mount,  were  typical  of  God’s 
mode  of  dealing  with  his  people  under  the  dispensation  of  the 
u  better  covenant.”  He  finds  them  in  a  state  of  cruel  bondage 
under  sin  and  Satan.  They  groan  for  deliverance,  but  have 
not  strength  to  effect  it  for  themselves.  God  undertakes  for 
them ;  not  by  ordinary  means — but  extraordinary ;  not  by 

12 


134  ROUTE  TO  MOUNT  SINAI - WADEY  WERDAN,  ETC. 

natural,  but  by  miraculous,  which  result  in  the  abolishing  of 
death,  and  bringing  life  and  immortality  to  light ;  He  ap¬ 
points  them  a  leader ;  He  gives  them,  in  the  page  of  revela¬ 
tion,  the  pillar  of  the  cloud  by  day,  and  the  pillar  of  fire  by 
night.  As  they  follow  their  leader  in  the  exercise  of  a  sim 
pie  faith,  they  experience  deliverance ;  as  they  look  to  the 
pillar  of  the  cloud  and  the  pillar  of  fire,  they  are  directed ; 
he  feeds  them  with  “  bread  from  heaven,”  and  makes  waters 
to  gush  out  for  them  in  the  desert ;  He  smites  the  spiritual 
rock  which  follows  them  ;  He  reveals  his  will  to  them  ;  He 
writes  it  as  a  law  in  their  hearts ;  He  makes  their  bodies  a 
“  temple” — a  tabernacle  in  which  he  dwells  by  His  spirit ; 
He  “  places  His  name”  among  them ;  He  is  their  God — they 
are  His  people. 

Our  next  day’s  journey  was  irksome  and  trying.  It  is  quite 
impossible  to  give  an  idea  of  the  effect  which  the  desert  and 
desert-life  have  upon  the  mind.  The  sense  of  loneliness,  and 
separation  from  the  great  world  which  accompanies  it,  is  some¬ 
times  oppressive.  And  had  not  the  traveller  full  and  un¬ 
doubting  confidence  in  the  integrity  of  his  escort,  it  would  be 
insupportable. 

In  the  evening  of  our  second  day’s  journey  from  Suez 
(May  sixteenth),  we  encamped  in  Wadey  Werdan,  an  appa¬ 
rently  interminable  plain  of  sand,  as  smooth  as  if  it  had 
been  washed  for  ages  by  the  ebbings  and  flowings  of  the  sea. 
Our  route,  during  a  great  part  of  the  day,  had  been  over  an 
almost  level  surface,  intensely  white,  and  exceedingly  trou¬ 
blesome  to  the  eyes — and  comprised  Wadey  er  Reiyaneh, 
Wadey  Kirdhiyeh,  Wadey  el  Ahtha  (or  Ati),  and  Wadey 
Sadr.  We  passed,  during  a  great  part  of  the  day,  so  near  to 
the  Red  Sea  on  our  right,  as  to  be  able  to  catch  frequent  and 
refreshing  glimpses  of  its  blue  waters,  and  the  picturesque 
outlines  of  mountain  scenery  on  its  western  shore.  On  the 
left,  we  still  continued  to  have  the  far-stretching  ridge  of  El 
Tih,  or  Gebel  er  Rahhah  ;  sometimes  dwindling  down  al¬ 
most  to  the  size  of  sand  hills,  at  others,  rising  to  the  dignity 
of  mountains.  While  moving  forwards  in  silence  (the  camels 


ROUTE  TO  MOUNT  SINAI - THIRST. 


135 


following  each  other  in  a  string,  and  thereby  preventing  much 
opportunity  for  conversation),  I  fcdt  almost  as  if  we  were  the 
first  travellers  in  an  untrodden  waste.  Unlike  the  Desert  of 
Suez,  which  is  abundantly  tracked — this  part  of  the  Arabian 
Desert  scarcely  bore  the  print  of  a  camel’s  foot.  This  cir¬ 
cumstance  greatly  increased  the  sense  of  loneliness ;  and 
might,  perhaps,  have  some  tendency  to  depress  the  spirits. 

Knowing  that  a  desert  route,  such  as  ours,  might,  and 
probably  would,  expose  us  to  many  a  privation,  particularly 
in  regard  to  fresh  water,  I  resolved  during  this  day,  to  try  how 
long  I  could  endure  the  cravings  of  thirst,  although  we  had 
in  our  skins  and  bottles  a  sufficient  supply  of  the  not  very 
palatable  water  of  Ayun  Mousa.  From  six  in  the  morning 
till  our  noontide  meal,  I  was  able  to  abstain  without  any  un¬ 
comfortable  result.  At  dinner  I  took  just  enough  to  refresh 
my  lips.  During  the  afternoon  and  evening  march,  the 
sense  of  thirst  became  very  painful.  The  sun  at  length  went 
down,  and  I  hoped  the  comparative  coolness  of  the  evening 
would  bring  refreshment ;  but  it  was  not  so — even  though 
the  moon,  with  her  cool  eyes  looked  down  kindly  upon  us. 
Seven  o’clock  came — eight  o’clock.  I  was  feverish.  My 
mouth  was  perfectly  dry.  I  had  a  feeling  of  oppression  in 
my  throat,  a  burning  pulsation  at  the  tips  of  my  fingers,  and 
a  general  restlessness  over  the  whole  system,  while  every 
thought  which  passed  through  my  mind  was  associated  with 
running  or  springing  water.  I  thought  again  and  again  of 
the  feathering  fountains  by  St.  Peter’s,  at  Rome,  and  of  the 
delicious  springs  of  water  at  my  own  far-distant  home.  I  felt 
as  if  I  could  hold  out  but  little  longer,  without,  perhaps,  oc¬ 
casioning  evil  consequences.  I  inquired  of  Sheikh  Suleiman, 
how  long  our  evening’s  march  would  continue,  so  as  to  reach 
a  suitable  halting  place:  he  answered — “Another  hour.”  I 
had  hoped  to  abstain  till  halting  time ;  but  it  was  too  far  dis¬ 
tant.  I  called  impatiently  for  water — moistened  my  lips  with 
the  precious,  though  brackish  fluid,  rinsed  my  mouth,  and 
took  the  smallest  draught :  but  it  was  long  before  the  reaction 
of  the  system  threw  off  the  painful  effects  of  my  experiment. 


136 


ROUTE  TO  MOUNT  SINAI. 


We  slept  refreshingly  in  the  silence  and  solitude  of  Wadey 
Werdan  ;  and  on  the  following  morning,  about  six,  the  tents 
were  struck — the  camels  loaded,  and  again  we  were  in  mo¬ 
tion.  There  is  a  melancholy  feeling  connected  with  the 
striking  of  the  tent — that  temporary  home  in  a  waste  and 
weary  land.  There  lie  the  ashes  of  the  bivouac  fires — the 
traces  of  the  camel’s  knees  in  the  sand,  and  the  circle  formed 
by  the  circumference  of  the  tent.  We  advance  a  few  steps — 
look  back  upon  the  little  spot  we  are  quitting  forever,  where 
we  have  reposed  as  securely  as  if  in  palaces  ceiled  with  cedar, 
and  painted  with  vermilion,  and  think  how,  during  the  help¬ 
less  hours  of  slumber,  the  arm  which  sustains  the  universe 
has  been  about  us,  and  the  ear  which  is  ever  open  to  the 
prayer  of  faith,  has  listened  to  our  petitions.  Then,  perhaps, 
comes  the  thought — where  will  be  the  next  place  of  repose  ? 
May  it  not  be  beneath  the  sands  of  the  wilderness,  where 
many  a  pilgrim  slumbers  in  the  icy  folds  of  death  ?  But 
while  the  striking  of  the  tent,  or  a  tabernacle,”  as  a  scriptural 
image,  full  often  thus  calls  to  mind  the  dissolution  of  these 
frail  bodies,  and  gives  birth  to  a  temporary  disquietude,  there 
is  a  permanent  truth — the  subject  of  a  divine  revelation,  which 
comes  at  once  to  the  relief  of  the  timid  flesh — u  For  we  know, 
that  if  our  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we 
have  a  building  of  God,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal 
in  the  heavens.”*  I  had  never  understood  the  full  force  of 
this  text,  till  it  was  thus  brought  home  to  me  in  connection 
with  the  habits  and  provisions  of  a  desert  life. 

After  quitting  Wadey  Werdan,  we  proceeded  for  about  five 
hours,  exposed  to  the  intensest  heat  we  had  yet  experienced. 
The  route  was  over  a  dreary  track  of  sand,  and  rough,  loose 
fragments  of  stone,  distressing  to  the  eyes,  and  troublesome 
for  the  camels.  Here  and  there  we  found  small  patches  of 
stunted,  prickly  shrubs.  While  the  sun  was  bearing  down 
upon  us,  I  availed  myself  of  a  simple  provision  which  should 
be  strongly  recommended  to  all  travellers.!  Though  I  had 

*  2  Cor.  v.  1. 

t  The  experienced  traveller  in  a  high  temperature,  will  take  care  to  keep 


PRECAUTION - WATERS  OF  MARAH. 


137 


an  Arab  umbrella,  of  double  cotton  (which,  by  the  way,  was 
sometimes  fatiguing  to  carry  overhead  long  together),  a  thick 
turban,  with  a  tarbouch  and  cotton  skull-cap  under  it,  yet  the 
sun  seemed  to  penetrate  through  them  all.  I  had  provided 
a  piece  of  thick  cotton  cloth,  about  five  or  six  yards  long  and 
two  wide,  which  sometimes  served  as  a  sheet  at  night,  when 
I  indulged  in  such  a  luxury.  I  folded  this  into  about  a  yard 
square — laid  it  with  all  its  thickness  on  the  top  of  my  head, 
brought  two  of  its  corners  to  meet  under  my  chin,  and  fas¬ 
tened  them  with  a  pin,  so  as  to  form  a  hood.  One  of  the 
other  corners  fell  over  my  face  like  a  veil,  the  other  protected 
the  back  of  my  neck.  I  never  really  suffered  from  the  heat, 
after  adopting  this  simple  precaution.  We  encamped  for  our 
noontide  rest  and  refreshment  at  about  eleven  o’clock,  in 
Wadey  el  Amarah,  where  the  thermometer  stood  at  101  Fah¬ 
renheit,  even  in  the  shade  of  the  tent. 

I  took  from  my  small  carpet-bag  the  books  I  carried  on  the 
back  of  my  camel  for  daily  use,  and  I  found  them  parched 
and  warped  as  if  they  had  been  laid  before  an  intense  fire. 
At  four  o’clock  we  resumed  our  journey  ;  and  after  about  two 
hours  and  a  half  of  wearisome  riding,  some  of  our  Arabs 
pointed  to  a  distant  clump  or  two  of  stunted  palms,  as  mark¬ 
ing  the  locality  of  Bir  Howarah,  which  has  been  almost 
unanimously  agreed  on  by  travellers,  as  the  bitter  waters  of 
Marah,  of  which  the  people  of  Israel  could  not  drink.*  As¬ 
suredly,  if  they  are  not  the  bitter  waters  referred  to  in  Scrip¬ 
ture — none  other  are  to  be  found,  at  all  agreeing  with  the 
position  which  seems  to  be  assigned  to  them  in  the  scriptu- 
rally-defined  route  of  the  children  of  Israel.  Pressing  on¬ 
wards  with  due  speed,  we  soon  arrived  at  the  wells,  which 

the  head  thickly  covered,  so  as  to  be  protected  against  the  severity  of  the 
vertical  sun.  Hence,  I  believe,  the  adoption  of  the  folds  of  the  turban,  as 
an  item  of  oriental  costume.  It  is  the  most  comfortable  thing  imaginable. 
It  is  desirable  to  wear  flannel,  and  to  have  the  body  well  covered,  so  as  to 
keep  up,  if  possible,  a  continual  perspiration ;  for  the  slow  pace  of  the 
camel  affords  but  little  inducement  to  that  natural  process ;  and  the  sun,  if 
suffered  to  act  upon  the  surface,  parches  the  skin,  and  produces  fever.  1 
would  clothe  myself  as  thickly  for  a  Desert  route,  as  for  a  winter  journey 
in  Europe. 

*  Exodus  xv.  23. 


12* 


138 


WATERS  OF  MARAH — WADEY  GHURUNDEL. 


are  small,  and  lie  imbedded  as  it  were  in  a  low  sand  hill.  It 
was  here,  then,  that  the  children  of  Israel  “  murmured  against 
Moses,  saying,  What  shall  we  drink  V1  And  here,  too,  it 
was,  that  the  honored  servant  of  Jehovah  C(  cried  unto  the 
Lord,  and  the  Lord  shewed  him  a  tree,  which,  when  he  had 
cast  into  the  waters,  the  waters  were  made  sweet.”*  We  dis- 
mounted,  on  our  arrival,  and  led  up  the  camels  to  the  wells. 
Some  travellers  assert  that  the  water  is  still  so  bitter,  that 
neither  Arabs  nor  camels  will  drink  of  it.  It  may  be  so,  in 
certain  seasons  of  the  year ;  but  on  this  occasion,  not  one  of 
the  camels  refused  it.  The  servants  drank  a  draught,  and  so 
did  some  of  the  Bedaweens.  I  also  tasted  it.  Certainly  it 
was  not  such  water  as  I  should  be  willing  to  drink,  except  I 
were  fainting  with  thirst,  and  deprived  of  all  other.  Though 
not  so  disagreeable  at  first,  yet  it  leaves  a  soapy  flavor  in  the 
mouth.  Surely,  none  but  those  who  have  thirsted  in  the 
Desert,  have  learnt  to  prize,  as  they  ought,  the  real  blessing 
of  good  water.  It  is  with  this,  as  with  most  of  the  ordinary 
bounties  of  God — they  are  little  esteemed,  and  awaken,  too 
generally,  but  slight  returns  of  gratitude,  because  they  are 
common.  Every  ordinary  mercy,  such  as  light,  food,  air, 
water,  health,  consciousness,  power,  safety — nay,  the  various 
secret  processes  of  nature  around  us,  invisible  to  our  percep¬ 
tion,  but  all  ministering  to  one  great  end,  each  deserves  the 
full  tribute  of  a  ceaseless  gratitude,  and  a  reverential  using. 

After  spending  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  Bir  Howarah,  we 
remounted  and  pursued  our  course  over  a  rugged  and  broken 
plain,  sometimes  intersected  with  low  hills  and  harsh  preci¬ 
pices,  in  which  the  savageness  of  the  wilderness  began  to  be 
apparent ;  when  at  length,  about  eight  o’clock,  by  the  light 
of  a  lovely  moon,  we  entered  Wadey  Ghurundel,  a  grace¬ 
fully  undulated  sandy  territory,  scattered  over  with  thick 
clumps  of  the  tamarisk  tree  and  small  palms,  which  gave  it 
the  appearance  of  an  ornamental  plantation.  The  effect  of 
this  was  indeed  delightful,  after  the  scene  through  which  we 
had  passed  before  sunset.  While  preparing  for  encampment, 

*  Exodus  xv.  25. 


ROUTE  TO  MOUNT  SINAI - ELIM. 


139 


we  saw  at  a  distance,  among-  the  tamarisk  trees,  the  glimmer¬ 
ing  of  some  Bedaween  fires,  which,  under  other  circumstances, 
and  if  in  an  enemy’s  country,  would  have  occasioned  some 
apprehension  ;  but  we  were  now  among  friends — in  the 
territory  of  the  Oualed  Said,  one  of  the  three  tribes  of  the 
peninsula  of  Sinai,  to  which  Sheikh  Suleiman  belonged. 
When  we  were  encamped,  the  Arabs  took  the  camels  and 
water  skins  to  a  spot  about  an  hour  distant  from  the  direct 
route,  in  order  to  get  a  supply  of  water,  of  which  there  is 
usually  plenty,  and  of  a  tolerable  quality.  The  water  brought 
from  Ayun  Mousa  had  become  offensive,  and  we  longed  for 
a  change.  The  spot  to  which  the  Arabs  went  for  water,  is 
now,  I  believe,  generally  agreed  upon  as  the  Elim  of  Scrip¬ 
ture,  where,  at  the  time  of  the  exodus  of  Israel,  there  were 
“  twelve  wells  of  water,  and  threescore  and  ten  palm  trees,”  by 
which  they  encamped.*  I  was  too  fatigued  to  visit  these 
wells  ;  and  it  would  have  occasioned  inconvenience  had  I 
done  so  on  the  following  morning.  I  am  satisfied,  however, 
that  if  Bir  Howarah  be  the  Marah  of  Scripture,  then  Elim 
must  be  in  Wadey  Ghurundel.  This  is  the  view  of  Burck- 
hardt ;  and  as  to  the  state  of  the  locality  in  his  time,  he  uses 
an  argument,  which  would  equally  apply  to  all  future  times. 
He  says,  u  the  non-existence  of  twelve  wells  at  Ghurundel, 
must  not  be  considered  as  evidence  against  the  foregoing  con¬ 
jecture  ;  for  Niebuhr  says  that  his  companions  obtained 
water  here  by  digging  to  a  very  great  depth,  and  there  was  a 
great  plenty  of  it  when  I  passed ;  water,  in  fact,  is  readily 
found  by  digging,  in  every  fertile  valley  of  Arabia,  and  wells 
are  thus  easily  formed,  which  are  as  quickly  filled  up  again 
by  the  sands.”  f 

On  the  following  morning,  quitting  Wadey  Ghurundel, 
we  entered  upon  the  “  Wilderness  of  Sin,”  which  Moses  de¬ 
scribes  as  lying  “  between  Elim  and  Sinai  ;”  and  here  we 
could  but  call  to  mind  God’s  wondrous  dealing  with  his 
murmuring  people,  in  giving  them  manna  from  heaven, 
while  they  were  saying,  u  Would  to  God  we  had  died  by  the 

*  Exodus  xv.  27.  t  See  Burckhardt,  p.  473. 


140  WILDERNESS  OF  SIN CHILDREN  OF  ISRAEL. 

hand  of  the  Lord  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  when  we  sat  by  the 
flesh  pots,  and  when  we  did  eat  bread  to  the  full ;  for  ye 
have  brought  us  forth  into  this  wilderness,  to  kill  this 
whole  assembly  with  hunger.”*  It  was  a  heart-stirring 
picture  for  the  imagination  to  form,  of  the  people  gathering 
up,  in  this  strange  and  desolate  region,  a  provision  so  pecu¬ 
liar,  and  so  marvellously  made  ;  of  which  “he  that  gathered 
much  had  nothing  over,  and  he  that  gathered  little  had  no 

lack.’1! 

In  order  to  have  a  sympathy  with  the  people  of  Israel  in 
their  impatient  murmuring,  it  is  needful  to  have  tracked  them 
in  the  route  they  took ;  to  have  gazed  upon  the  savage  scenes 
of  desolation  on  which  they  gazed  ;  and  to  have  endeavored, 
in  imagination,  to  identify  one’s  self  with  them  in  the  history 
of  their  wanderings  and  their  privations,  their  temptations 
and  their  trials,  as  well  as  in  their  experience  of  God’s  irre¬ 
sistible  might  and  power.  While  we  are  strangers  to  the 
Desert,  its  wildness  and  its  barrenness,  and  to  that  sense  ot 
despondency  and  solitude,  even  amidst  numbers,  which  its 
very  aspect  is  so  calculated  to  engender,  we  pause  and  won 
der  over  the  sacred  narrative  of  their  hardness  and  unbelief 
“How  could  they  be  so  rebellious— so  unbelieving?”  wo 
piously  exclaim.  The  answer  is — they,  were  men,  under  a 
dispensation  of  wonders  and  of  trials,  to  which  human  flesh 
had  never  before  been  subject.  Their  sense  of  what  was 
‘present  was  so  intense,  as  to  make  them  dead  to  the  past,  and 
almost  hopeless  for  the  future.  And  the  Holy  Ghost — the 
Comforter ,  was  not  then  given.  But,  let  us  stand  with  them 
in  the  Desert — and  see  them  destitute  of  all  visible  means  of 
sustenance  for  so  vast  a  multitude,  and  cut  off  from  every 
visible  comfort  that  the  frail  flesh  of  man  clings  to — with  the 
promises  of  an  unseen  though  felt  Godhead  to  look  to  as  the 
ground  of  such  expectations  as  they  might  venture  to  enter¬ 
tain  ;  and  though  we  lament  that  they  should  tempt  God  in 
the  wilderne.'S,  and  freely  admit  the  sin  of  their  so  doing,  we 
are  not  at  a  loss  for  a  reason  why  those,  who  had  all  theii 


*  Exodus  xvL  1 — 3. 


t  Exodus  xvi.  18. 


WILDERNESS  OF  SIN - HOMRR- BERRIES. 


141 


lives  oeen  accustomed  to  walk  u  by  sight  ,”  should,  in  circum¬ 
stances  of  unparalleled  difficulty  and  perplexity,  find  it  hard  to 
walk  a  by  faith .”  Do  not  even  we  find  it  difficult  to  walk  by 
faith  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world — though  in  the 
light  of  a  clearer  revelation,  and  under  a  nobler  leader  than 
ever  Israel  had  ;  and  though  taught  from  our  infancy,  on  the 
very  highest  authority,  that  our  business  is  to  walk  by  faith, 
and  not  by  sight  ?  While  we  rightly  censure,  and  utter  our 
indignation  against,  the  sin  of  Israel  which  God  signally 
punished — overthrowing  many  of  them  in  the  wilderness,  on 
one  day  three  and  twenty  thousand — destroying  some  by 
serpents  and  others  by  “  the  destroyer” — let  us  never  forget 
the  declaration  of  the  Apostle,  that  “  all  these  things  happened 
unto  them  for  ensamples and  that  the  record  of  them  is 
u  written  for  our  admonition ,  upon  whom  the  ends  of  the 
world  are  come.”  u  Wherefore,  let  him  that  thinketh  he 
standeth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall.”* 

While  quitting  our  encampment  in  Wadey  Ghimmdel, 
one  of  the  Arabs  ran  beside  my  camel,  and  presented  me 
with  some  small  red  fruit,  somewhat  resembling  the  grains 
of  a  pomegranate.  They  were  of  a  fresh  acid  flavor,  not 
unlike  the  common  red  currant.  These  are  commonly  called 
homrr-berries,  and  according  to  Burckhardt,  are  the  fruit  of 
the  Gharkad — the  Peganum  reiusum  of  Forskal,  which  is  to 
be  met  with  in  the  sands  of  the  Delta,  on  the  coast  of  the 
Mediterranean,  as  well  as  in  the  peninsula  of  Sinai.  The 
Arabs  eat  this  refreshing  fruit  abundantly,  and  sometimes 
make  it  into  a  sort  of  conserve.  The  question  has  been 
raised  by  travellers,  whether  it  might  not  have  been  used 
by  Moses  for  sweetening  the  waters  of  Marah  ;  and  it  is 
partly  grounded  on  the  Arabic  translation  of  the  passage  in 
Exodus,  in  which  the  transaction  is  referred  to.f  But  the 
simple  answer  to  the  question  is,  that  the  transaction  was 
evidently  a  miraculous  one,  and  not  in  any  degree  depen- 

*  1  Corinthians  x.  1 — 12. 

t  The  Arabic  version  is — “And  the  Lord  shewed  him  something  of  a 
lree_  which,  when  he  had  cast  into  the  waters,”  &c. — not  the  tree  itself: 
why  not  the  fruit  of  the  Gharkad  'l 


142 


ROUTE  TO  MOUNT  SINAI - WADEY  HOMRR. 


dent  for  its  success  upon  the  nature  or  quality  of  the  medium 
employed. 

Beyond  Wadey  Ghurundel,  the  widely-extended  Desert- 
plain  ceases,  and  is  exchanged  for  bold,  rugged  and  savage 
rocks,  with  sometimes  very  narrow  and  wild  passes  between. 
After  a  wearisome  march,  during  which  we  passed  through 
Wadey  Usseit,  and  Wadey  Thai,  rendered  doubly  savage 
and  gloomy  by  the  rapidly  coming  shades  which  were  gath¬ 
ering  over  us,  we  at  length  reached  Wadey  Homrr,  which 
presented  a  magnificent  amphitheatre  of  mountains;  and  by 
the  brilliant  illumination  of  the  moon,  showed  like  an  impres¬ 
sive,  yet  lovely  solitude  in  which  to  encamp  for  the  night. 
Suleiman  would  fain  have  prevailed  on  us  to  march  two 
hours  further ;  but  we  were  worn  by  the  day’s  fatigue,  and 
longed  for  repose. 

On  the  following  morning,  by  about  six  o’clock,  we  turned 
our  backs  upon  this  charming  encampment,  and  enjoyed  a 
delightfully  mild  temperature — the  sun  being  occasionally 
obscured  by  clouds.  We  proceeded  through  a  wild  and  stony 
pass,  hemmed  in,  on  either  side,  by  rugged  and  precipitous 
rocks  of  sandstone,  so  curiously  constructed,  and  so  hoary 
with  age,  that  if  a  cannon  had  been  fired  in  the  midst  of  them, 
one  could  have  readily  expected  that  the  vast  masses  would 
topple  from  their  bases,  and  crumble  into  the  smallest  frag¬ 
ments.  The  echo,  too,  was  very  remarkable,  and  almost  con¬ 
veyed  the  idea  that  the  rocks  were  porous  throughout.  In 
about  three  hours  and  a  half  after  leaving  Wadey  Homrr. 
we  came  in  sight  of  Wadey  Nassb,  with  the  heights  of  Sura- 
bet  el  Khadim  towering  above.  In  about  another  hour,  after 
suffering  severely  from  the  hot  khamseen  wind,  blowing  in 
our  faces  like  blasts  from  a  furnace,  we  descended  into  Wadey 
Nassb,  one  of  the  wildest  and  most  savage  scenes  that  the 
imagination  can  conceive.  In  one  part  was  a  vast  plain,  into 
which  it  seemed  as  if  mountains,  torn  from  their  bases,  had 
been  cast  in  dire  confusion,  and  as  if,  from  the  apparently 
hewn  and  chiseled  fragments — temples,  towns,  and  cities, 
might  soon  be  bidden  into  existence.  The  rocks  which  sup 


ROUTE  TO  MOUNT  SINAI - WADEY  NASSB. 


143 


round  this  strange  scene,  and,  indeed,  all  those  about  Wadey 
Nassb,  appear  as  though  they  had  been  shaped  into  their  pre¬ 
sent  forms  by  the  tool  of  the  artizan  ;  tier  upon  tier,  cornice 
upon  cornice,  and  frieze  upon  frieze,  extend  far  and  wide 
their  fantastic  natural  garniture,  as  if  they  had  once  been  the 
habitations  of  a  gigantic  race  who  have  passed  away  into  the 
land  of  forgetfulness,  to  which  this  had  been  the  entrance. 

In  Wadey  Nassb  is  a  noble  overhanging  sandstone  rock, 
under  which,  I  suppose,  every  traveller  by  this  route  to  Mount 
Sinai,  has  reposed,  affording  as  it  does  a  most  perfect  shelter 
from  the  severity  of  the  vertical  sun.  It  was  noon  when  we 
reached  it.  And,  surely,  when  the  hot  khamseen  had  become 
almost  unendurable,  it  served  not  only  as  a  place  of  refuge, 
but  a  charming  illustration  of  the  scriptural  image — ■“  the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land.”  I  may  have  under¬ 
stood  that  image  as  intended  to  set  forth  Christ  to  the  worn 
and  weary  sinner,  hut  till  I  reclined  under  the  shadow  of  that 
great  rock,  I  never  felt  the  power  of  it.  If  the  khamseen  had 
not  been  blowing,  it  would  have  afforded  all  the  shelter  we 
needed ;  but,  as  it  was,  we  were  glad  to  fix  up  the  drapery  of 
the  tent  in  front,  so  as  to  cut  off  the  hot  currents  which  else 
would  have  continued  to  parch  us.  It  was  pleasant  to  think 
that,  in  this  very  spot,  Niebuhr,  Seetzen,  Burckhardt,  Laborde, 
and  many  other  enterprising  and  inquiring  spirits  had  reposed 
and  meditated. 

Rising  from  our  noontide  rest,  we  continued  our  way 
through  the  bold,  rugged  pass  of  Wadey  Nassb,  for  about 
two  hours  more,  during  which  I  observed  the  remarkable 
formation  of  the  rocks  throughout.  The  strata  were  as  per¬ 
fectly  horizontal  as  if  they  had  been  laid  with  a  level,  and 
most  exactly  squared.  To  my  mind,  excited,  perhaps,  by 
heat  and  fatigue,  the  silence  and  bleak  solitude  of  this  spot 
was  very  impressive.  One  felt  out  of  the  world  ;  all  associa¬ 
tions  of  civilized  life  seemed  to  pass  away  as  we  journeyed 
on  with  our  wild  companions,  to  whom  these  scenes  were  the 
familiar  and  fitting  home.  And,  certainly,  I  had  already  seen 
enough  to  convince  me  that  it  must  have  been  a  most  chimer 


144 


ARAB  FAMILIES. 


ical  attempt  of  Mehemet  Ali,  when,  in  a  country  such  as  this, 
he  sought,  by  force  of  arms,  to  reduce  to  subjection  the  Beda- 
ween  of  the  peninsula  of  Sinai.  He  has  ever  since  acted  upon 
a  wiser  policy. 

As  we  were  winding  our  way  slowly  towards  the  termina 
tion  of  Wadey  Nassb,  we  met  two  groups  of  Bedawee  chil¬ 
dren,  at  small  distances  from  each  other  ;  and  on  the  crumbling 
rocks  were  more,  scampering  about  like  little  brown  monkeys. 
The  appearance  of  these  children  gave  token  that  an  encamp¬ 
ment  was  at  hand,  a  part  of  which,  with  its  black  tents,  we 
soon  descried  at  a  little  distance.  The  children  were  intelli¬ 
gent  and  sunny-looking  creatures — free  and  agile  of  limb. 
Some  of  those  who  were  of  the  first  group  mended  their 
speed  to  meet  our  party,  when  the  usual  greetings — silent, 
solemn,  and  graceful  were  exchanged.  It  was  a  meeting  of 
familiar  faces.  When  we  had  come  nearly  within  reach  of 
the  second  party,  who  were  tending  a  herd  of  goats,  one  fine 
boy,  of  about  twelve  years  old,  sprang  out  from  among  the 
rest  and  ran  up  to  Sheikh  Suleiman,  saluting  him  with  that 
quiet  reverence  which  would  be  rendered  to  a  patriarch.  I 
thought  it  was  a  beautiful  picture,  as  I  gazed  upon  the  portly 
father  and  the  graceful  son.  Suleiman  saw  how  my  attention 
was  directed,  and  being  near  beside  me  at  the  time,  he  pre¬ 
sented  his  son  to  me,  with  a  sparkling  of  parental  joy  on  his 
dark  features.  The  boy  gazed  up  towards  me.  I  reached 
down  my  hand  to  him — he  touched  the  tips  of  my  fingers, 
pressed  his  own  to  his  lips — and  we  were  friends.  Both 
father  and  son  soon  bade  us  farewell  for  a  time,  to  join  the 
encampment  of  their  tribe — the  former  promising  to  join  us 
again  in  the  course  of  the  next  day’s  march.  Gathering 
together  the  rest  of  our  Bedaween,  we  continued  our  route 
over  a  most  fatiguing  succession  of  sandy  plains  and  sand 
hills,  on  which  were  to  be  seen  scattered  tufts  of  prickly 
herbage.  Behind  us  lay  the  wild  picture  of  Wadey  Nassb: 
on  our  left,  the  long  range  of  Gebel  el  Tih,  above  which  we 
were  considerably  elevated.  The  sun  went  down  beautifully, 
tinging  the  whole  range  of  Gebel  el  Tih  with  a  rosy  hue. 


WADEY  BERAH - ARAB  BURIAL-GROUND. 


145 


Scarcely  had  the  sun  declined,  when  thick  mists  began  to 
rise  from  the  plains  which  lay  on  the  western  side  of  the 
mountain  range.  They  extended  themselves  with  wonderful 
rapidity,  and  soon  we  were  encompassed  by  them,  as  if  by 
the  densest  fog.  This  lasted  for  the  greater  part  of  an  hour, 
when  they  gradually  dispersed,  and  soon  our  tents  were 
pitched  for  the  night,  in  Ramel  Morekh — or  Debhet  er 
Ramleh — a  wide  sandy  plain,  affording  slight  herbage  for 
the  camels. 

Soon  after  commencing  our  journey  on  the  next  morning, 
we  struck  into  Wadey  Berah,  a  bold  rocky  pass,  with  finely 
lined  mountain  views  to  the  right  and  left.  It  increased  in 
massive  grandeur  as  we  advanced.  But  the  khamseen  was 
almost  stifling;  and  at  noon  the  thermometer  stood  at  121 
Fahrenheit,  at  the  door  of  the  tent.  It  was  a  trying  and  ex¬ 
hausting  day.  Sheikh  Suleiman  returned  to  us  according  to 
his  promise,  and  paid  his  respects  to  us  in  the  tent.  As  we 
were  about  to  enter  Wadey  Berah,  we  noticed  on  our  left,  an 
Arab  burial-place.  The  graves  were  marked  by  rough  frag¬ 
ments  of  stone  placed  upright,  some  of  which  had  been  gar¬ 
nished  with  slips  of  the  slender  varieties  of  trees  and  plants 
which  that  part  of  the  Desert  affords.  As  we  passed  on,  we 
observed  two  of  our  Bedaween,  who  had  for  a  short  time  been 
absent  from  the  caravan,  approaching  this  retired  nook  of 
death  in  the  midst  of  the  mountains,  bearing  in  their  hands 
some  of  those  graceful  offerings  ;  which,  having  disposed  of 
on  the  graves  of  some  dear  friend  or  relation,  according  to  the 
custom  of  their  tribes,  they  rejoined  us  with  cheerful  and  hap¬ 
py  looks.  It  is  very  remarkable  how  generally  prevalent  is 
the  habit  of  garnishing  with  flowers  or  shrubs,  the  graves  of 
the  dead.  There  is  a  charming  train  of  thought  connected 
with  it,  which  arises  out  of  a  feeling  one  loves  to  cherish. 

The  whole  day’s  journey  through  Wadey  Berah  was  weari¬ 
some  indeed — frowned  upon  as  we  were,  by  massive  moun¬ 
tains,  which  appeared  as  if  they  had  been  scorched  and  black¬ 
ened  by  volcanic  fires.  We  were  obliged  to  proceed  slowly 
and  cautiously  over  passes  covered  with  fragments  of  large 

13 


146 


WADEY  SHEIKH - SINAITE  GROUP. 


and  loose  stones.  During  the  greater  part  of  the  day  we  were 
ascending,  and  hourly  advancing  towards  the  venerable  spot 
in  which  Jehovah  spake  from  the  cloud,  amidst  the  thunder- 
ings  and  lightnings  with  which  the  mountain  quaked  and 
trembled  greatly.  It  was,  indeed,  a  solemn  march.  Before 
the  sun  went  down,  we  reached  a  more  open  pass,  which  by 
and  by  expanded  into  a  broad  plain,  flanked  on  either  side  by 
mountains,  less  grim  and  savage  in  their  appearance  than 
those  we  had  previously  passed,  but  ponderous  and  lofty. 
This  was  the  entrance  to  Wadey  Sheikh,  from  which  the 
route  lies  direct  onwards  to  Mount  Sinai.  While  passing  over 
the  plain,  we  saw  large  flocks  of  goats  browsing  amidst  its 
scanty  herbage,  attended  by  a  few  young  Arabs,  who  approach¬ 
ed  to  greet  our  party.  Several  black  tents  were  to  be  seen  at 
a  distance,  belonging  to  the  tribe  of  Oualed  Said.  The  moon 
rose  upon  us  as  we  entered  Wadey  Sheikh — weary  and 
anxious  for  the  halting  time.  Sheikh  Suleiman  was  full  of 
life  and  buoyant  spirits.  He  was  now  near  his  second  home  ; 
for,  according  to  Musselman  habits,  he  had  two  wives,  and  of 
course  two  separate  establishments ;  one  of  which  we  had 
partly  seen  in  Wadey  Nassb.  He  was  desirous  of  pressing 
on  still  further  ;  but,  at  our  bidding,  he  gave  the  word  to  halt ; 
and  soon  our  comfortable  little  desert-home  was  formed,  and 
our  fires  were  blazing. 

I  walked  out  into  the  sweet  moonlight  to  enjoy  the  freshness 
of  the  evening.  The  moon  was  getting  high,  and  flinging 
her  soft  beams  on  mountain  ridges,  distant  and  near. 

“  What  is  yonder  mass  of  mountain,”  said  I,  “whose  bold 
outline  is  faintly  traced  in  the  distance,  upon  the  pale  grey  of 
the  south  ?”  “  It  is  the  Sinaite  group  of  mountains,”  said 

Hassenein.  I  inquired  more  minutely — “  Am  I  now  gazing 
on  Mount  Sinai?”  “No,”  replied  he,  “  the  peaks  of  Mount 
Sinai  are  not  visible  from  hence — they  lie  beyond  ;  you  will 
see  them  to-morrow.” 

It  was,  however,  quite  enough  for  me.  I  could  then  sit  at 
.he  door  of  the  tent,  and  thence  fix  my  gaze  upon  the  Sinaite 


WADEY  SHEIKH - GEBEL  SERBAL. 


147 


group,  and  indulge  the  thought,  that  there — over  that  venera¬ 
ble  mass : — 

“  The  Lord  descended  from  above, 

And  bowed  the  heavens  high.” 

Early — almost  with  the  morning  dawn  of  the  tenth  da^ 
after  quitting  Cairo,  we  entered  upon  the  route  which  we 
hoped  would  safely  terminate  at  the  sacred  mountain  of  God. 
The  pass  through  Wadey  Sheikh,  in  which  we  commenced 
our  march,  was  bold  and  beautiful ;  affording,  moreover,  scan¬ 
ty  pasturage  and  several  small  shrubs,  some  having  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  broom.  On  the  right,  was  one  of  the  most 
impressive  objects  of  mountain  scenery  I  ever  beheld — so 
gracefully  yet  majestically  elevated,  with  its  many  almost  per¬ 
pendicular  peaks,  and  tinted  with  an  empurpled  rosy  hue  by 
the  fresh  beams  of  the  young  sun.  Surrounded  by  other 
mountains  of  less  magnitude  frowning  in  rugged  majesty,  its 
singularly  beautiful  outline  and  color  made  me  look  upon 
it  as  the  aristocrat  in  the  scene.  It  was  the  group  of  Gebel 
Serbal,  on  which  some,  under  pretence  of  an  early  tradition, 
have  endeavored  to  fix  the  honor  of  being  the  true  Mount 
Sinai  of  Scripture  ;  but  this  seems  now  to  be  generally  aban¬ 
doned. 

While  passing  through  Wadey  Sheikh,  Suleiman  intimated 
his  intention  of  proceeding  to  his  encampment,  there  to  re¬ 
main,  during  our  stay  at  Mount  Sinai.  He  invited  us  to  visit, 
and  share  Arab  hospitality  with  him  in  his  own  wilderness 
habitation.  We  were  anxious,  however,  to  arrive  with  as  lit¬ 
tle  delay  as  possible,  and  so  declined  the  invitation,  when  he 
turned  off  with  a  courteous  salaam,  leaving  us,  under  a  suffi¬ 
cient  escort,  to  proceed  by  way  of  Wadey  Hawy,  our  baggage 
camels  having  taken  a  more  circuitous,  but  less  fatiguing  and 
difficult  route,  eastward. 

After  parting  with  Suleiman,  we  proceeded  for  about  an 
hour,  when  the  wild  and  extremely  difficult  pass  of  Wadey 
Hawy  opened  before  us.  It  was  one  of  those  ways  which 
would  almost  make  the  heart  of  a  Avorn  and  weary  traveller 
sink  within  him.  We  were  tolerably  well  prepared  at  the 


148 


WADEY  HAWY - PLAIN  OF  EL  RAHA. 


early  part  of  the  day  in  which  we  entered  it.  It  is  of  con* 
tinuous  and  steep  ascent,  and  appears  to  be  the  bed  of  a  vast 
mountain  torrent.  Masses  of  rock,  of  surprising  magnitude, 
seem  to  have  been  flung  together  by  some  natural  convulsion, 
and  lie  in  some  parts  like  a  staircase  for  a  race  of  giants.  Not 
a  person  was  to  be  seen — not  a  voice  to  be  heard,  except  our 
own.  On  both  sides  of  this  steep  pass,  the  mountain  crags 
sometimes  hung  over,  in  such  a  way  as  almost  to  awaken  the 
apprehension  that  a  breeze — a  breath — might  bring  them 
thundering  down  upon  us.  Here  and  there  was  a  stunted 
wild  fig  tree,  together  with  small  date  trees,  and  other  slight 
symptoms  of  vegetation  ;  and  many  a  dry  spot  gave  token  of 
having  been  the  place  of  deposite  for  water  ;  but  not  a  drop 
was  then  to  be  found.  At  noon  we  had  reached  nearly  the 
middle  of  this  wild  pass,  where  was  a  cave  of  curious  natural 
construction,  under  a  vast  mass  of  impending  rock — such  a 
cave,  perhaps,  as  the  prophet  Elijah  took  shelter  in  when 
fleeing  from  Jezebel  towards  Horeb.  It  was  a  fitting  place  of 
repose  for  a  prophet  of  the  Lord.  Here  we  resolved  to  take 
our  noontide  rest  and  refreshment.  So,  dismounting  at  once, 
we  spread  our  segaddehs  in  the  cave,  and  enjoyed  the  most 
refreshing  slumber,  and  rose  ready  for  our  homely  meal  of 
Arab  bread,  dates,  figs,  and  rather  muddy  water — the  last, 
little  supply  that  remained  for  us,  before  reaching  Mount  Sinai. 

Looking  back  from  the  cave  upon  the  route  by  which  we 
had  approached  it,  a  picture  of  the  wildest  grandeur  was  pre¬ 
sented,  but  not  at  all  inferior  to  that  which  immediately 
awaited  us;  for.  looking  upwards,  the  way  seemed  almost  im¬ 
practicable.  It  was  quite  out  of  the  question  to  proceed  on 
the  backs  of  our  camels ;  so,  committing  them  to  the  care  of 
our  guides,  we  commenced  the  second  stage  of  Wadey  Hawy, 
on  foot.  An  hour’s  continual  effort  of  this  kind,  brought  us 
into  a  more  manageable  track  for  the  camels,  when  we  again 
mounted  and  continued  the  ascent,  which  when  gained, 
ushered  us  into  the  extensive  plain  of  El  Raha — the  spot  in 
which  I  am  firmly  persuaded  the  people  of  Israel  were 
gathered  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  the  law. 


HOREB - SINAI. 


149 


Scarcely  had  we  entered  upon  the  plain,  when  in  front  of 
us,  due  south,  stood  the  venerable  object  of  our  desire — Hoieb 
— Sinai — the  mountain  of  the  Lord.*  I  cannot  well  define, 
so  as  to  make  intelligible  to  others,  the  state  of  my  mind  at 
this  time.  I  was  not  excited.  There  was  no  gush  of  enthu¬ 
siasm  in  my  heart — no  religious  fervor.  I  felt  it  difficult  to 
realize  the  fact,  that  my  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  hoar  Mount, 
with  which  was  connected  so  wondrous  and  so  sacred  a  story — • 
second  in  importance,  only  to  that  of  the  incarnation  of  the 
Godhead.  I  feel  far  more  while  writing  this  page,  than  I  did 
when  gazing  on  the  scene  then  before  me.  One  of  our  Arabs 
called  my  attention  to  the  mountain — pointing  to  it,  and  re¬ 
peatedly  saying  “  Gebel  Mousa”  (which  is  the  Arab  name  of 
Horeb  and  Sinai),  and  looking  up  in  my  face  as  if  to  see  what 
effect  it  had  upon  me. 

Half  an  hour’s  progress,  across  the  plain,  brought  us  within 
sight  of  the  little  Greek  Convent  of  Santa  Katarina. f  Oh  !  it 
was  a  gladdening  sight.  It  was  the  first  human  habitation 
we  had  seen  since  quitting  Suez.  It  appeared  little  more 
than  a  white  speck  amidst  the  gloomy  vastness  of  the  Sinaite 
group — a  little  nest  of  repose  amidst  gigantic  tokens  of  natural 
convulsion.  As  we  slowly  advanced,  we  were  enabled  to  form 
a  general  idea  of  this  remarkable  habitation.  It  is  a  some¬ 
what  castellated,  quadrangular  building — with  a  little  show 

*  The  attentive  reader  of  Scripture  will  have  observed  that  Horeb  is  no 
where  spoken  of  as  a  distinct  mountain,  but  rather  as  a  mountainous  district, 
in  which  Sinai — the  mountain  of  God,  is  situate,  and  of  which  it  is  really 
a  part.  The  recollection  of  this  suggests  the  true  answer  to  be  given  to 
infidel  writers,  who  have  endeavored  to  throw  suspicion  on  the  divine 
records,  by  alleging  a  discrepancy  in  reference  to  those  transactions  which 
took  place  on  Sinai  and  in  Horeb.  Compare  Exodus  xix.  and  xx.  with 
Deut.  v.  2,  from  which  we  find  that  the  giving  of  the  law  on  Sinai,  is 
spoken  of  as  having  taken  place  in  Horeb.  Compare  Exodus  xxxii. 
(which  certainly  proves  that  the  people  were  encamped  at  the  base  of 
Sinai )  with  Deut.  ix.  8,  9,  and  Psalm  cvi.  9,  which  speaks  of  Horeb ,  as  the 
scene  of  their  idolatry.  The  seeming  discrepancy  at  once  disappears  on  a 
reference  to  Exodus  iii.  and  xix.,  in  which  the  author  of  that  book  plainly 
uses  the  terms  Horeb  and  Sinai  indifferently,  to  designate  the  same  place. 
That  the  Jews  were  accustomed  to  this,  is  evident  from  Josejohus  (Antiqui¬ 
ties  of  the  Jews,  book  i.  chap.  12.) 

t  Or,  as  I  believe  the  Greek  Church  calls  it — “The  Monastery  of  the 
Transfiguration.” 

o 


13* 


150 


SINAI - CONVENT  OF  SANTA  KATARINA. 


of  fortification.  Its  walls  are  high,  and  capable  of  making 
sufficient  resistance  against  such  missiles  as  Arabs  are  accus¬ 
tomed  to  use,  though  constructed  with  stones  and  mud,  or 
clay,  which  seems  never  to  have  attained  to  any  very  great 
degree  of  solidity.* 

We  approached  from  the  north,  which  point  presents  the 
best  view ;  for  we  were  enabled  to  look  down,  as  we  ap¬ 
proached  from  a  distance,  upon  a  garden  enclosed  by  a  contin¬ 
uation  of  the  convent  walls,  in  which  olives,  vines,  cypresses, 
apricots,  and  other  trees  were  clothed  in  their  bright  livery  of 
lovely  green.  As  I  gazed  upon  these  objects,  I  thought  I  had 
never  before  really  understood  and  felt  the  charm  of  green  as 
a  color.  All  appeared  so  fresh — so  luxuriant — so  cool,  in  the 
midst  of  the  wilderness  of  savage  granite,  by  which  it  was 
surrounded.  My  lips,  my  mind,  my  imagination  were  thirsty 
— all  thirsty  and  craving.  The  sight  of  green  things,  so 
fresh,  associated  with  them,  in  my  mind,  the  idea  of  water :  I 
fancied  I  could  almost  hear  it  trickling  from  rock  to  rock — or 
humming  its  quiet  course  over  sparkling  pebbly  beds.  How 
intense  the  imaginative  faculty  thus  becomes,  when  called 
into  action  by  some  pressing  physical  want.  They  act  upon 
each  other.  I  was  a  weary  pilgrim.  I  longed  for  quiet  and 
repose.  How  charming  the  little  convent  and  its  sweet  green 
garniture  appeared.  I  looked  towards  it  with  emotion,  as  a 
spot  that  was  to  afford  me  shelter — to  be  my  brief  home — 
there — at  the  foot  of  the  mount  of  God — apart  from  the  great 
world  in  which  man  strives  with  man,  and  where  the  dove- 
pinion  of  peace  rarely  nestles. 

— 1 —  Often  and  often,  when  my  spirit  has  been  sad  ;  when 
disappointment  and  disquietude  have  hung  upon  the  beatinos 
of  my  heart — have  I  indulged  the  recollection  of  that  picture 
of  unutterable  repose.  I  can  do  it  now:  oh,  how  vividly! - • 

*  The  site  of  this  Convent  is  said  to  be  five  thousand  four  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  Red  Sea.  The  height  of  Mount  Sinai 
itself,  is  two  thousand  and  twenty  above  the  site  of  the  convent,  and  is 
therefore  seven  thousand  four  hundred  and  forty  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea. 


ARRIVAL  AT  SANTA  KATARINA. 


15  i 


After  nearly  another  hour  we  had  mastered  the  plain  of  El 
Raha,  and  for  a  time  lost  sight  of  the  Convent,  hidden  as  it 
was,  by  the  projecting  crags  which  formed  a  narrow,  rocky 
pass  or  ravine,  at  the  extremity  of  the  plain.  We  entered  the 
pass.  The  Convent  was  near  at  hand.  We  glided  slowly 
along  towards  its  rude  walls.  Finding  the  way  rough  ana' 
troublesome,  we  dismounted,  and  leisurely  on  foot  approached 
the  main  entrance,  which  is  on  the  eastern  side ;  and  how 
awfully  did  the  majestic  mountain-ranges,  right  and  left,  look 
down  upon  us.  We  arrived;  and  soon  were  surrounded  by 
a  troop  of  wild  and  fiery-eyed  Bedaween — retainers  of,  and 
dependants  upon,  the  monks  of  Santa  Katarina — among  the 
younger  of  which  wild  birds  was  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
studies  for  a  painter  I  ever  beheld.  He  was  as  graceful  as 
his  mountain-home  and  desert-breeding  could  make  him. 
u  Backsheech — backsheech,”  was  the  general  cry,  while  we 
waited  for  admission  within  the  convent  walls. 

Our  arrival  was  soon  announced  to  the  inmates,  and  pre¬ 
parations  were  made  for  our  reception. 

On  account  of  the  unmanageable  ferocity  of  the  Bedaween 
in  past  years,  before  the  friendly  footing  on  which  they  now 
live  with  the  monks  was  established,  all  usual  modes  of  en¬ 
trance  were  blocked  up  ;  and  in  this  state  they  still  continue  ; 
so  that  the  traveller  is  admitted  by  a  door  at  least  thirty  feet 
from  the  ground,  to  which  he  and  his  baggage  are  elevated 
by  a  kind  of  crane,  from  which  a  rope,  moved  by  a  windlass 
within,  is  let  down,  and  in  which  he  seats  himself,  as  in 
a  swing. 

We  had  not  long  stood  beneath  the  entrance,  before  the 
rope  descended  for  our  credentials ;  and  immediately  our 
letter  of  recommendation  from  the  superior  of  the  Greek  Con¬ 
vent  at  Cairo,  was  drawn  up  for  inspection,  while  several 
bearded  heads  were  peeping  out  to  reconnoitre  our  persons 
and  escort.  Soon  the  rope  returned,  into  which  we  fixed  our¬ 
selves,  and  were  each  drawn  up  by  a  separate  process  of  the 
windlass — not  at  any  great  speed  ;  for  every  thing  within  the 
convent  of  Santa  Katarina  moves  at  a  slow  and  sleepy  pace. 


152 


CONVENT  OF  SANTA  KATARINA. 


On  reaching  the  elevated  portal,  we  found  a  small,  rude  land¬ 
ing  place,  where  the  Superior — a  hale,  white  bearded  man 
of  middle  age,  received  us  with  a  gentle  courtesy,  which  indi¬ 
cated  our  welcome.  Passing  thence  into  the  interior  of  the 
convent  we  were  immediately  conducted  down  an  inclined 
plane  and  a  flight  of  rude  steps,  and  then  up  another,  which 
brought  us  to  an  open  gallery,  overlooking  a  great  part  of  the 
building,  from  which  opened  off  four  small  cells,  conveniently 
furnished  with  carpets  and  cushions — with  a  little  lamp  sus¬ 
pended  in  each  for  burning  olive  oil  during  the  night.  One 
of  these  was  assigned  to  each  of  us,  and  a  third  to  our  ser¬ 
vants — and  soon  all  our  desert-furniture  was  gathered  together 
about  us,  not  an  article  of  which  was  missing.  In  addition  to 
these  things,  a  small  sheep  had  been  purchased  of  the  Beda- 
ween,  which  was  dressed  and  hung  up  for  use,  as  the  provis¬ 
ions  afforded  by  the  convent  are  of  the  most  spare  and  slender 
description ;  animal  food  of  all  kinds  being  forbidden  by  the 
rules  of  the  order. 

While  seated  at  the  door  of  our  cells,  we  were  soon  waited 
on  by  several  of  the  monks — one  bearing  a  bason,  and  an¬ 
other  a  large  ewer  of  water,  with  clean  white  napkins. 
While  we  held  our  hands  over  the  bason,  he  poured  the  cool 
water  upon  the  parched  skin,  which  afforded  a  refreshment 
that  was  extremely  delightful.  Another  brought  a  bounti¬ 
ful  supply  of  water,  bright  and  sparkling,  from  the  convent 
well,  for  drinking.  I  took  a  fearfully  long  draught  of  it — 
and  felt  as  if  sweet,  fresh  water  were  the  only  beverage  fit  for 
man.  It  was  almost  too  delicious.  We  had  been  drinking 
water  little  better  than  diluted  mud,  for  several  days  previous 
to  our  arrival.  While  our  meal  was  in  preparation,  they 
served  us  with  a  fragrant  cup  of  coffee  ;  and  in  these  slight 
and  simple  matters  of  refreshment  and  restoration,  I  felt  as  if 
all  the  toils  of  travel  might  be  soon  forgotten.  How  charm¬ 
ing  it  was  to  be  thus  housed,  after  eleven  days  of  toilsome 
vagrancy — dwelling  in  tents  among  wild  Arabs — lawless 
men.  How  delightful  to  have  our  eyes  resting — no  longer 
upon  the  dry  and  brown  sands  and  rugged  mountain  passes  of 


CONVENT  OF  SANTA  KATARINA. 


153 


the  desert — but  upon  trellised  grape  vines,  of  the  freshest  and 
most  luxuriant  verdancy,  fresher  and  greener,  I  thought,  than 
I  had  ever  beheld  before  ;  and  upon  cypresses  and  other  fair 
and  graceful  trees  and  flowers,  in  little  patches  and  terraces, 
growing  like  youth  and  innocence  in  the  midst  of  a  bleak  and 
dreary  world. 

The  little  cells  which  we  inhabited  had  their  whitewashed 
walls  written  over,  in  many  places,  with  the  names  of  travel¬ 
lers  from  most  parts  of  Europe,  who  had,  from  time  to  time, 
like  ourselves,  been  tenants  for  a  brief  space,  and  shared  the 
hospitality  of  these  kindly  monks. 

The  day  after  our  arrival  was  Trinity  Sunday — the  anni¬ 
versary  of  my  consecration  to  God  for  the  work  of  the  min¬ 
istry.  The  recollection  of  this  added  much  to  the  solemnity 
of  my  position,  while  thus  reposing  at  the  foot  of  the  holy 
mountain.  Many  a  humbling  thought  held  possession  of  my 
mind,  while  I  looked  back  upon  the  past ;  and  many  a  holy 
resolution  for  the  future  absorbed  my  soul.  Had  I  fulfilled  my 
high  trust?  Was  I  free  from  the  blood  of  all  men?  Would 
God  still  bear  with  me — and  endue  me  with  that  grace  that 
should  hereafter  make  me  a  more  faithful  and  able  minister  of 
the  New  Testament  ?  It  was  a  solemn  time.  We  attended  one 
of  the  sabbath  services  in  the  Church  of  the  Convent ;  but,  of 
course,  it  was  totally  unedifying  to  those  who  had  been  brought 
up  in  the  light  of  the  “  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.”  It 
was  disfigured  by  some  of  the  worst  of  those  errors,  follies,  and 
corruptions  which  characterize  the  Church  of  Rome.  The 
Church  itself  abounds  with  tawdry  decoration,  paintings,  and 
gildings,  in  the  worst  possible  taste,  after  the  manner  of  the 
Greeks;  yet,  considering  the  locality,  it  is  quite  surprising.* 
There  are  three  daily,  and  one  midnight  service  ;  to  the  latter  of 

*  This  Church  was  founded  by  the  Emperor  Justinian,  and  is  in  a  good 
state  of  preservation.  I  could  but  indulge  the  wish,  however  fruitless,  at 
present,  that  instead  of  what  it  is,  it  could  be  made  the  centre  point  of  a 
pure  Protestant  mission  to  the  Bedaween  of  the  peninsula  of  Sinai — and 
through  them,  to  the  rest  of  the  family  of  Ishmael.  I  cannot  but  think 
there  is  something  reserved  in  the  purposes  of  God  for  this  interesting  and 
peculiar  people ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  their  spiritual  prospects  ar« 
bound  up  in  the  restoration  of  Israel.  See  Isaiah  xix.  18 — 25. 


154 


CONVENT  OF  SANTA  KATARINA. 


which,  the  monks  rise  from  their  beds,  summoned  by  sounds 
emitted  from  a  piece  of  hard  dry  wood,  suspended  by  a  cord, 
and  struck  with  a  mallet,  first  in  slow  strokes,  which  are  gra¬ 
dually  increased  to  great  rapidity. 

We  were  not  invited  to  partake  of  the  common  meals  of 
the  fraternity,  but  received  every  kindness  and  civility  from 
these  simple-hearted  recluses,  who  paid  us  frequent  visits, 
though  we  were  unable  to  maintain  any  lengthened  or  satis¬ 
factory  conversation  with  them.  On  one  occasion,  I  took  in 
my  hand  the  Book  of  the  Greek  Ritual,  a  copy  of  which  was 
in  my  cell,  and  began  reading  one  of  the  gospel  portions 
aloud,  according  to  the  pronunciation  adopted  in  our  univer¬ 
sities.  One  of  the  monks,  though  unaccustomed  to  such  a 
pronunciation,  recognised  the  language  from  my  lips,  and 
looking  over  the  book  as  I  read,  gave  me  the  accentuated 
pronunciation  of  the  modern  Greek.  Oh  !  how  I  longed  to 
be  able  to  preach  Christ  to  him,  instead  of  spending  timo 
upon  tones  and  accents. 

While  walking  in  the  convent  garden,  a  young  monk — a 
Russian — who  spoke  eleven  languages,  introduced  himself  to 
us.  He  was  evidently  out  of  health.  He  asked  me  for  me¬ 
dicine.  1  gave  him  what  I  thought  might  be  useful.  I  saw 
him  several  times.  The  medicine  seemed  to  have  been  bene¬ 
ficial.  On  leaving  the  Convent,  I  presented  him  with  a  little 
supply  for  future  use.  He  smiled  gratefully  upon  me,  and 
kissed  me  on  the  shoulder  when  I  bade  him  farewell. 

So  far  as  my  observations  could  go,  the  poor  monks  ap¬ 
peared  to  be  in  a  state  of  sad  ignorance.  How  should  it  be 
otherwise  ?  The  intellect  must  needs  contract  for  want  of 
due  exercise  and  means  of  expansion.  Pure  Christianity — ■ 
if  they  had  it,  would  expand  both  the  intellect  and  the  heart. 
The  corruptions  and  legends  of  the  Greek — no  less  than  of  the 
Roman  Church,  may  excite  and  stimulate  the  imagination  ; 
but  they  leave  the  heart  cold  and  barren.  The  substantiali¬ 
ties  of  the  true  faith  are  buried  in  its  mere  appendages.  The 
latter  are  near  at  hand,  and  are  embraced.  The  former  are 
distant  and  uninviting. 


CHAPEL  OF  THE  BURNING  BUSH. 


155 


Beside  the  Convent  Church,  there  are  three  principal  ob¬ 
jects  of  interest  to  visitors.  The  first  of  these  is  the  tradition¬ 
ary  locality  of  the  burning-  bush  :*  the  next  the  convent  li¬ 
brary  :  the  third,  is  the  catacomb.  To  each  we  made  a  point 
of  obtaining  admission,  and  were  kindly  attended  by  the  su¬ 
perior,  and  several  monks. 

The  chapel  of  the  burning  bush  is  a  subterraneous  struc¬ 
ture,  nearly  under  the  high  altar ;  and  is  approached  by 
a  conveniently  formed  stone  stair.  On  reaching  the  little 
chapel,  the  superior  set  us  an  example,  by  putting  off  his 
shoes  which  we  readily  followed.  [“  Put  off  thy  shoes  from 
off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  wherein  thou  standest  is  holy 
ground.”]  The  chapel  is  nearly  circular,  and  the  precise 
spot  which  tradition  has  assigned  to  the  divine  mystery  of  the 
burning  bush,  is  illuminated  by  three  suspended  lamps,  which 
are  kept  constantly  burning.  A  simple  altar,  with  its  usual 
pictorial  furniture,  completes  the  appointments  of  this  curious 
spot.  It  is  no  part  of  the  disposition  of  my  mind  to  exercise 
either  needless  belief,  or  rash  incredulity,  in  reference  to  lo¬ 
calities  traditionally  sacred.  It  might  have  been  on  this  very 
spot,  as  indicated  by  the  burning  lamps,  that  the  Angel  of  the 
Lord  appeared  unto  Moses  in  a  flame  of  fire,  out  of  the  midst 
of  the  bush — for  certainly  it  was  at  “  the  back  side  of  the  de¬ 
sert” — at  the  mountain  of  God — at  Horeb.  But  the  fact 
transacted ,  is  the  matter  which  God  intended  should  be  per¬ 
manently  known  and  remembered.  And  it  never  has  been, 
and  never  will  be,  forgotten.  If  an  indubitable  proof  of  the 
precise  locality  had  been  necessary,  in  order  to  ensure  the  be¬ 
lief  of  the  fact,  then  I  am  persuaded  God  would  not  have  suf¬ 
fered  any  ground  of  doubt  to  exist.  But  if,  on  the  contrary, 
a  knowledge  of  the  exact  spot  would  only  have  the  effect  of 
enlisting  the  imaginative  faculty  on  the  side  of  faith,  I  think 
we  may  well,  do  without  the  certainty,  and  have  no  right  to 
expect  it.  The  more  we  find  ourselves  able  to  walk  by  sight, 
the  less  shall  we  be  disposed  to  walk  by  faith.  Notwith¬ 
standing  these  remarks,  I  freely  confess  it  was  no  small  grati- 

*  See  Exodus  iii.  t — 10. 


156 


CONVENT  LIBRARY — CATACOMB. 


fication,  when  afterwards  reading  the  record  of  this  remarka¬ 
ble  transaction,  to  feel  assured,  that  if  my  foot  had  not  actu¬ 
ally  pressed  the  spot  on  which  Jehovah-Jesus  appeared  in  the 
unconsumed,  though  burning  bush — yet  that  certainly  it  was 
in  Horeb — and  that  I,  myself,  had  been  in  Horeb.  This  was 
approximation  enough  for  me. 

The  convent  library  nearly  adjoins  the  residence  of  the 
superior.  In  former  days,  it  was,  I  believe,  rich  in  valuable 
lore.  It  is  still  crowded  with  books,  in  the  direst  disorder 
and  confusion  imaginable.  They  are  mostly  in  the  Greek 
and  Arabic  languages.  Literary  research  seems  not  to  lie 
within  the  province  of  the  good  fathers  of  Santa  Katarina. 
Few  men,  I  think,  could  bring  the  full  powers  of  their  mind 
to  bear  on  literary  pursuits,  for  the  sake  of  the  mere  gratifica¬ 
tion  which  they  afford,  or  for  the  immediate  personal  result 
of  them.  Some  can,  and  have  done  so  ;  but  most  men  look 
to  the  fame  and  influence  which  learning  procures  for  its  toil¬ 
some  possessor  ;  while  a  happy  few  labor  and  toil  and  strive, 
in  the  blessed  hope  of  enriching  the  minds  and  hearts  of  their 
fellow  men.  For  the  monks  of  Santa  Katarina,  there  is  no 
world  beyond  the  walls  of  their  convent. 

The  catacomb  is  a  curiously  arched  and  vaulted  building, 
of  which  the  superior  is  the  curator.  There  repose  the  bones 
— literally  the  bones,  in  a  remarkable  state  of  preservation, 
of  the  successive  tenants  of  this  secluded  habitation,  who,  hav¬ 
ing  monasticized  during  their  brief  day,  glided  off  from  life’s 
narrow  verge,  amidst  the  shadowy  figments  of  a  corrupted 
creed.  There  is  nothing  offensive  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
place,  beyond  the  earthy  smell  of  a  charnel-house.  No  sights 
of  decomposition  meet  the  eye;  for,  prior  to  being  admitted 
within  this  final  resting  place,  the  bodies  of  deceased  brethren 
are  buried  within  the  convent  walls  long  enough  for  the  pro¬ 
cess  of  decomposition  to  take  place  ;  after  which  they  are 
exhumed,  and  all  the  bones  carefully  collected.  On  one  side 
of  the  catacomb  the  skulls  are  packed  up,  layer  upon  layer, 
in  the  most  orderly  manner,  so  that  every  monk  may  see 
where  his  own  will  lie,  should  he  be  the  next  called  into  an 


SHRINE  OF  SANTA  KATARINA. 


157 


eternal  state.  On  the  opposite  side,  deposited  with  equal  care 
and  regularity,  are  the  other  remains.  I  could  not  venture 
to  guess  at  the  number  whose  bones  are  there  preserved  ;  but 
it  was  great,  and  occupied  a  very  considerable  space  on  either 
side.  We  explored  this  chamber  of  death  with  small  wax 
tapers,  brought  by  some  of  the  monks.  How  humbling  the 
thought — that  all  the  earthly  hopes,  pursuits,  plans,  projects, 
possessions,  affections — of  the  monk  of  Santa  Katarina — 
should  terminate  in  this  secluded  nook.  Were  it  better  that 
his  bones  should  be  bleaching  on  the  battle-field,  or  crum¬ 
bling  in  the  costly  sepulchres  of  the  great  world,  or  rotting 
amidst  the  wrecks  of  stranded  navies  in  the  caverns  of  the 
vast  ocean  ?  Perhaps  not.  Terminate  where  and  how  it 
may — life  itself,  in  its  temporary  subjection  to  death,  is  a 
humbling  thing. 

The  shrine  of  Santa  Katarina,  wherein  are  said  to  be  de¬ 
posited  the  skull  and  hands  of  the  Saint — the  former  sur¬ 
mounted  by  a  crown  of  gold — the  fingers  of  the  latter  encircled 
by  rings  of  great  value — is  usually  shown,  with  its  contents, 
to  Such  devotees  as  may  desire  so  edifying  a  privilege.  But 
being  myself  a  member  and  minister  of  a  branch  of  the  Church 
Catholic,  which  needs  no  toys  and  reproves  the  use  of  them, 
I  had  no  desire  to  examine  these  traces  of  saint-veneration 
and  worship,  at  the  foot  of  that  mountain  where  God  had  said, 
u  Thou  shalt  have  none  other  gods  before  me.” 

The  twenty-third  of  May  was  a  memorable  day.  I  made 
the  ascent  of  Mount  Sinai.  Whether  I  agree,  or  not,  with 
what  has  been  urged  by  Lord  Lindsay,  Professor  Robinson, 
and  others  on  the  same  side,  as  to  the  precise  pinnacle  of  the 
Sinaite  group,  from  which  the  law  was  given  to  Moses,  I 
must  frankly  confess  that  it  would  be  only  a  choice  of  conjec¬ 
tures,  or  a  balance  of  probabilities.  That  it  was  indeed  the 
Sinaite  group  which  invited  my  footsteps,  and  touched  my 
heart  by  its  august  presence,  there  could  be  no  doubt.  And 
here,  I  think,  the  remarks  I  made,  as  to  the  locality  of  the 
burning  bush,  might  well  be  repeated.  Not  a  particle  was 
there  of  this  wilderness  of  granite  that  had  not  quaked  at  the 

14 


158 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SINAI. 


mysterious  and  awful  presence  of  Jehovah,  by  which  it  was 
overspread ;  not  one  of  its  numberless  clefts  and  caverns,  in 
which  was  not  heard  and  echoed,  the  voice  of  the  trumpet 
which  sounded  long  and  waxed  louder  and  louder.  And 
was  there  not  enough  of  localization  in  this  certainty,  without 
breaking  the  solemn  feeling  by  fruitless  inquiries  as  to  the 
precise  spot  on  which  u  the  Lord  came  down  upon  Mount 
Sinai,  on  the  top  of  the  mount?”  Tradition  may  urge  one 
thing,  reason  and  observation  may  assert  another ;  while 
Scripture  withholds  all  but  the  general  certainty  to  which  I 
have  referred.  I  knew  that  this  dread  wilderness  was  the 
stupendous  theatre  of  one  of  the  most  wondrous  facts  of  the 
inspired  record.  I  was  content  to  rest  in  this  assurance- 
The  whole  region  appeared  scathed,  as  if  the  breathings  of 
the  Almighty  were  yet  upon  it,  and  as  if  the  flame  and 
smoke  which  veiled  His  awful  presence  had  but  just  passed 
away. 

I  cannot  better  recall  to  my  own  mind,  or  reflect  on  the 
minds  of  others,  the  solemn  state  of  feeling  which  was  en¬ 
gendered  by  the  aspect  of  this  august  earthly  presence-cham¬ 
ber  of  Jehovah,  than  by  quoting  the  narrative  of  Moses  : — 

u  And  it  came  to  pass  on  the  third  day,  in  the  morning, 
that  there  were  thunders,  and  lightnings,  and  a  thick  cloud 
upon  the  mount,  and  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  exceeding  loud  ; 
so  that  all  the  people  that  was  in  the  camp  trembled.  And 
Moses  brought  forth  the  people  out  of  the  camp  to  meet  with 
God ;  and  they  stood  at  the  nether  part  of  the  mount.  And 
Mount  Sinai  was  altogether  on  a  smoke,  because  the  Lord 
descended  upon  it  in  fire  ;  and  the  smoke  thereof  ascended  as 
the  smoke  of  a  furnace,  and  the  whole  mount  quaked  greatly. 
And  when  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  sounded  long,  and  waxed 
louder  and  louder,  Moses  spake,  and  God  answered  him  by  a 
voice.  And  the  Lord  came  down  upon  Mount  Sinai,  on  the 
top  of  the  mount ;  and  the  Lord  called  Moses  up  to  the  top  of 
the  mount ;  and  Moses  went  up,”* 

— « —  The  voice  of  Jehovah  sounds  not  now  in  the  natural 


*  Read  the  two  chapters — Exodus  xix.  and  xx. 


MOUNT  SINAI. 


159 


ear  of  man ;  but  his  law,  with  the  divine  record  that  perpetu¬ 
ates  it,  is  imperishable  like  himself ;  and  in  that  law  is  the 
spiritual  presence  of  God,  still  overshadowing  Mount  Sinai, 

and  its  sacred  precincts. - 

###*## 

At  half-past  four  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  the  twenty-third 
of  May,  we  set  out  for  the  ascent  of  Mount  Sinai,  accompanied 
by  Hassenein  and  two  of  the  younger  monks,  named  Angelo 
and  Nicodemo,  who  kindly  volunteered  their  company  and 
services.  The  morning  was  warm  and  close  ;  and,  having 
had  a  restless  and  almost  sleepless  night,  I  looked  forward  to 
the  arduous  undertaking  with  some  misgiving  as  to  my 
strength ;  for  though  the  good  monks  have,  for  ages  past, 
done  what  lay  in  their  power  to  make  the  ascent  practicable 
at  all  times ;  yet,  after  all,  it  is  a  fatiguing  affair ;  so  much  so^ 
as  to  render  it  necessary  to  make  many  a  pause,  and  to  claim 
the  aid  of  many  a  crag  as  a  resting  place  by  the  way.  By 
direction  of  the  kindly  superior,  we  were  attended  by  several 
Arabs — retainers  at  the  convent — bringing  with  them  a  few 
materials  for  a  morning  repast  during  our  excursion. 

The  ascent  is  commenced  at  a  deep  ravine,  lying  to  the 
south-west  of  the  convent — that  is,  at  its  back ;  and  the  first 
stage  carried  us  over  such  part  of  Horeb  as  forms  a  kind  of 
breast-work,  or  foundation,  from  which  Gebel  Mousa — the 
alleged  peak  of  Mount  Sinai — springs.  This  part  of  the 
journey  is  made  tolerably  easy,  by  means  of  large  slabs  or 
blocks  of  granite,  disposed  in  such  order  as  to  give  a  firm 
footing ;  but  as  many  have  been  washed  away  from  time  to 
time  by  winter  torrents,  some  effort  is  required  to  keep  the 
road.  In  about  half  an  hour,  the  ascent  becomes  still  more 
fatiguing  and  steep ;  and  the  way  lies  between  impending 
masses  of  vast  magnitude,  and  through  two  arched  gateways 
at  a  short  distance  from  each  other,  the  first  of  which  reminded 
me  of  the  u  wicket  gate”  of  John  Bunyan — whither  Evangelist 
had  directed  Christian,  and  from  which  he  was  swerving, 
when  u  the  hill  (of  legality)  seemed  so  high,  and  also  that 
side  of  it  that  was  next  the  wayside  did  hang  so  much  over 


160 


MOUNT  SINAI. 


that  Christian  was  afraid  to  venture  further,  lest  the  hill 
should  fall  on  his  head,  wherefore,  then  he  stood  still,  and  he 
wot  not  what  to  do.”  The  latter  of  the  arched  ways  intro¬ 
duced  us  to  a  rather  extensive  plain,  or  platform,  in  which 
grows  a  fine  towering  cypress,  and  near  it  is  a  roughly  com 
structed  stone  building,  called  the  chapel  of  the  convent,  and 
another  in  commemoration  of  the  flight  of  Elijah  to  Horeb. 
From  this  spot,  the  summit  of  Mount  Sinai  is  visible ;  and 
from  thence  the  direct  ascent  is  made.  It  is  toilsome  and 
difficult.  The  monks,  who  live  upon  traditions,  point  out  the 
various  objects  of  interest,  but  make  sad  work  in  referring  to 
Scripture  names  and  narratives.  When  we  were  rather  more 
than  half  way  up  the  peak  of  Sinai,  they  pointed  out  a  spot 
in  which  tradition  says  that  Moses  surveyed  the  conflict  be¬ 
tween  Joshua  and  Amelek  ;  and  surely  no  place  more  probable 
or  picturesque  could  well  be  selected.  After  many  a  perse¬ 
vering  effort,  the  summit  was  gained,  where  we  found  a  small 
chapel  of  the  Greek  church,  and  a  mosque — but  both  in  a 
ruinously  dilapidated  state.*  Proceeding  to  the  very  highest 
point,  so  as  to  command  the  vast  region  of  mountain  scenery, 
my  mind  was  absorbed  by  the  terrific  grandeur  of  the  picture. 
In  the  words  of  an  enterprising  and  intelligent  traveller,!  of 
an  earlier  day,  I  may  say — “  It  would  seem  as  if  Arabia  Petrsea 
had  once  been  an  ocean  of  lava,  and  that,  while  its  waves 
were  running  literally  mountains  high,  it  was  commanded 
suddenly  to  stand  still.” 


*  Not  far  from  the  summit,  is  still  distinctly  visible,  on  the  face  of  the 
solid  granite,  the  alleged  miraculous  print  of  the  foot  of  Mahomet’s  camel. 
When  Hassenein  saw  it — like  a  good  Musselman,  he  kneeled  down,  passed 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  over  the  impression,  and  then  over  his  face,  with 
more  of  the  air  af  a  devotee  than  I  had  ever  noticed  in  him  before.  Gebel 
Mousa  was  of  very  small  import  to  him,  except  for  the  alleged  record  of  the 
prophet’s  presence,  which  it  bore. 

t  Sir  J.  Heninker.  I  have  just  met  with  Baumgarten’s  narrative  of  his 
ascent.  It  is  so  striking,  and  to  my  mind  affecting,  that  I  must  transcribe 
it.  “About  sun-rising,  we  came  down  the  west  side  of  Mount  Horeb,  by 
a  very  steep  and  dangerous  way,  and  came  into  a  valley  betwixt  Horeb 

and  Mount  Sinai . At  last,  our  ascent  grew  so  difficult,  that  all  our 

former  toil  and  labor  seemed  but  sport  to  this.  However,  we  did  not  give 
over,  but  imploring  the  divine  assistance,  we  used  our  utmost  endeavor. 
At  last,  through  untrodden  ways,  through  sharp  and  hanging  rocks 


MOUNT  SINAI. 


161 


I  retired — still  gazing  on  the  venerable  and  solemn  scene  , 
and  read,  with  a  humbled  heart,  the  law  as  written  by  the 
finger  of  God,  upon  the  two  tables  of  stone. 

Lord — write  thy  law  on  my  heart  with  the  finger  of  thy 
spirit ! 

It  were  idle  to  talk  of  feelings  and  emotions  in  reference 
to  a  spot  like  this. 

Before  we  prepared  to  descend,  our  friends  Angelo  and 
Nicodemo  led  us  to  a  charming  clear  well,  near  the  summit; 
from  which  delicious  water  was  drawn  for  immediate  refresh¬ 
ment,  and  for  the  purpose  of  furnishing  us  with  coffee.  A 
fire  was  soon  kindled,  and  the  coffee  made ;  and  it  was  a 
study  for  a  painter  as  we  all  sat  together,  partaking  of  a  con¬ 
vent  meal,  brought  in  a  rough-dressed  goat  skin,  which  was 
spread  on  the  rock  for  our  table-cloth.  We  occupied  one  side 
— Angelo  and  Nicodemo  the  other,  and  behind,  a  little  apart, 
sat  Hassenein  and  the  Bedaween.  Our  breakfast  consisted  of 
very  coarse  brown  bread,  goat’s-milk  cheese,  black  olives 
dressed  in  oil,  delicious  coffee,  fresh  water  from  the  spring, 
and  a  little  flask  of  date  spirit  to  qualify  it.  We  did  ample 
justice  to  our  rude  repast,  after  so  much  toil ;  and  commenced 
an  extremely  difficult  descent,  by  the  deep  rocky  valley  of  El 
Ledja,  formed  by  Gebel  Mousa,  and  Gebel  Katarina,  which 
runs  nearly  parallel  with  the  ravine  in  which  the  convent  is 
situate.  While  passing  along  El  Ledja,  the  monks  pointed 
out  to  us  a  huge  mass  of  granite,  lying  as  if  hurled  by  some 
mighty  hand  from  the  masses  above ;  and  this  they  affirmed 
was  the  stone  which,  when  smitten  by  the  rod  of  Moses, 
gushed  forth  with  water.  They  bade  us  notice  several  curi¬ 
ous  fissures,  from  which  they  say  the  water  miraculously 

through  clefts  and  horrible  deserts,  pulling  and  drawing  one  another, 
sometimes  with  our  staves,  sometimes  with  our  belts,  and  sometimes  with 
our  hands,  by  the  assistance  of  Almighty  God,  we  all  arrived  at  the  top  of 
the  mountain.  The  top  of  Mount  Sinai  is  scarce  thirty  paces  in  compass: 
there  we  took  a  large  prospect  of  the  countries  round  about  us,  and  began 
to  consider  how  much  we  had  travelled  by  sea  and  by  land,  and  how 
much  we  had  to  travel,  what  hazards  and  dangers,  and  what  various 
changes  of  fortune,  might  probably  befall  us.  While  we  were  thus  divided 
between  fear  and  hope,  and  possessed  with  a  longing  for  our  native  coun¬ 
try,  it  is  hard  to  imagine  how  much  we  were  troubled.” 

14* 


162 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEPARTURE. 


issued.  But,  after  all,  I  feel  fully  persuaded  that  this  is  pure 
lv  legendary.  The  ravine  of  El  Ledja,  cannot,  I  think,  be 
the  vale  of  Rephidim.  Moreover,  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  the  present  tradition  had  not  its  commencement  till  about 
the  fourteenth  century. 

The  whole  expedition  occupied  nearly  eight  hours,  attended 
by  such  an  amount  of  fatigue  and  weariness,  as  rendered  dou¬ 
bly  grateful  the  cool  quiet  of  our  convent  cells. 

We  spent  the  next  day  within  the  walls  of  the  convent, 
and  in  the  charming  garden,  resting  and  preparing  ourselves 
for  resuming  our  Desert  route.  I  wrote  letters  to  dear  friends 
in  England,  to  be  dispatched  on  our  arrival  at  Akabah.  How 
delightful  the  assurance,  that  we  could  not  only  reach  them 
in  prayer,  but  also  transmit  to  them  across  the  wide  waste  of 
the  great  and  terrible  wilderness,  the  kindly  affections  of  our 
hearts. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  May,  the  day  fixed  at  Cairo,  for  our 
departure  from  Mount  Sinai,  Sheikh  Suleiman  was  at  his 
post,  and  ready  to  resume  the  command  of  our  caravan,  and 
to  make  the  needful  adjustments.  But  departure  with  a  car¬ 
avan  of  Bedaween  Arabs  is  not  the  work  of  a  few  minutes. 
It  is  like  fitting  out  a  ship  for  sea  ;  especially  when  changes 
of  camels  and  escort  have  to  be  made,  which  is  generally  the 
case,  when  travellers  who  have  stayed  at  Mount  Sinai  go  on 
to  Akabah.  We  had  personally  nothing  to  do  with  these 
changes,  but  to  endure  the  vexation  of  delay.  The  three 
convent  tribes — or  of  the  Tor,  are  all  equally  interested  in 
transporting  travellers  and  merchandize ;  and  though  they 
are  on  the  most  friendly  footing  with  each  other,  yet  they 
are  all  jealous  of  their  rights;  and  a  few  piastres  lost  for  the 
want  of  gaining  them,  is  a  matter  of  sore  disquiet.  The  con¬ 
sequence  of  the  changes  necessary  to  be  made,  previous  to  our 
departure,  was  the  loss  of  some  “old  familiar  faces;”  and  I 
was  obliged  to  give  up  my  nice  easy-paced  camel,  which  I 
had  ridden  from  Cairo,  for  a  heavier  and  far  less  agreeable 
beast.  Two  hours  and  more  were  spent  in  the  usual  squab- 
blings,  and  in  the  loading,  unloading,  and  reloading  of  camels. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEPARTURE. 


163 


The  repose  of  the  convent  was  invaded,  till  it  seemed  like 
another  Babel,  though  all  this  was,  of  course,  transacted  with¬ 
out  the  walls.  At  eleven  o’clock,  all  was  ready  for  our  de 
parture.  We  received  kindly  parting  visits — with  a  presen 
of  bread  and  a  conserve  made  of  dates  and  almonds,  from  the 
superior  and  several  others  of  the  fraternity — drank  a  fare¬ 
well  cup  of  coffee — left  behind  us  a  suitable  present  in  money 
— received  and  returned  the  usual  symbols  of  courtesy,  when 
again,  the  rope  and  windlass  were  in  requisition,  while,  one 
by  one,  we  were  safely  landed  on  terra  firma ;  and,  bidding 
farewell  to  that  quiet  retreat,  whose  green  repose  I  shall  never 
forget,  we  were  soon  on  the  backs  of  our  camels,  whose  heads 
were  turned  towards  Wadey  Sheikh,  north-eastward  of  the 
convent  of  Santa  Katarina. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  DESERT; 

*  i  -  -  / 

FROM  MOUNT  SINAI  TO  AKABAH. 

Departure  from  Mount  Sinai — Route  towards  Akabah — The  Mezzen. — Desert  Feud 
— Adventure  with  the  Mezzeni — Wadey  el  Ayun — Arab  Superstition — Wadey  el 
Ayun — Fountain — Night  march — Murder  of  Sheikh  Suleiman — The  Journey  Re¬ 
sumed — El  Hanekh — Akabah — Future  Movements — Encampment  at  Akabah — 
Sheikh  Hussein — Final  Arrangements — Panic — Termination  of  Sojourn  at  Ak¬ 
abah. 


In  the  mind  of  the  traveller  who  has  once  really  felt  the 
desolateness  of  a  desert-route,  and  experienced  somewhat  of 
its  privations,  many  an  anxious  and  foreboding-  thoug-ht  min¬ 
gles  itself  with  his  bright  pictures  of  pleasurable  anticipation, 
when  setting  out  for  a  second  stage,  amidst  scenes  all  new, 
strange  and  venerable.  And  there  is  something,  too,  in  the 
manner  of  desert  life,  which  greatly  stimulates  the  awakened 
imagination. 

I  felt,  while  sojourning  in  the  quiet  convent  of  Mount 
Sinai,  that  so  far  indeed  had  the  good  hand  of  God  conducted 
us,  as  surely  and  safely  as  if  we  had  beheld  him  in  the  pillar 
of  the  cloud  and  in  the  pillar  of  fire.  And  certainly,  there  is 
nothing  that  can  brace  up  the  heart  for  difficulty  and  danger, 
more  than  a  simple  perception  of  our  filial  relation  to  a  God 
cf  love.  I  trust  this  was  the  real  state  of  my  mind,  when 
again  I  found  myself  surrounded  by  the  wild-eyed  children 
of  the  wilderness,  equipped,  armed,  and  ready  for  the  intended 
expedition  to  Akabah,  the  Ezion-geber  of  Scripture.*  There 
was  something  in  the  very  stir  of  preparation — in  the  moan 

♦Numb,  xxxiii.  35,  36.  Deut.  ii.  8.  1  Kings  ix.  26.  2  Chron.  viii.  17. 


DEPARTURE  FROM  MOUNT  SINAI. 


165 


mg  and  gurgling  of  camels,  and  in  the  guttural  volubility  ol 
Arab  escorts,  which  carried  back  my  mind,  with  vivid  recol¬ 
lection,  to  the  scenes  we  had  passed  ;  while  far  in  the  dim 
distance,  imagination  beheld  the  land  of  promise,  and  the 
Holy  City  of  our  God,  to  which  every  step  was  tending. 

We  had  given  orders  to  Sheikh  Suleiman  to  conduct  us 
by  the  ordinary  route,  described  by  Lord  Lindsay  and  many 
others,  which  would  have  brought  us  soon  to  the  shores  of 
the  north-eastern  arm  of  the  Red  Sea,  by  way  of  Wadey  Sa’i 
and  Ayun  Hudhera,  to  Ayun  en  Nuweibia  ;  but,  for  reasons 
which  will  by  and  by  be  apparent,  he  determined  to  take  us 
by  a  more  circuitous  way,  of  which  we  were  quite  ignorant, 
until  our  disappointment  at  not  reaching  the  Red  Sea,  led 
to  an  enquiry,  and  moreover,  to  a  confession  on  the  part  of 
Suleiman,  that  he  had  disobeyed  orders.  The  truth  is,  he 
was  aware  of  danger,  and  no  doubt  hoped  by  a  little  manage¬ 
ment  to  avoid  it. 

On  the  day  of  our  departure  from  Mount  Sinai,  our  way 
lay  partly  across  the  plain  of  El  Raha  ;  when,  striking  off  in 
a  north-easterly  direction,  we  entered  Wadey  Sheikh,  which 
winds  round  to  the  west,  and  joins  Wadey  Feiran,  and  from 
which  open  off  several  passes  over  Debhet  er  Ramleh  and 
Gebel  el  Tih,  through  one  of  which  Suleiman  conducted  us, 
Soon  after  entering  Wadey  Sheikh,  we  noticed  a  Sheikh’s 
tomb,  of  some  antiquity,  from  which  the  present  name  of  this 
pass  is  derived  ;  and  as  we  started  so  late  in  the  day,  we  made 
but  little  way,  and  pitched  our  tents  for  the  night  at  a  small 
distance  from  the  tomb.  A  Sheikh’s  tomb  is  always  an  ob¬ 
ject  of  superstitious  veneration  among  the  Arabs,  as  we  had 
several  opportunities  of  observing.  On  arriving  at  one,  it  is 
a  common  thing  for  them  to  gather  up  handfuls  of  sand, 
which  they  sprinkle  upon  the  heads  and  into  the  ears  of  the 
camels,  as  a  charm  against  accident  and  danger. 

At  six  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  the  twenty-sixth  of  May, 
we  recommenced  our  journey  in  good  earnest ;  and.  quitting 
Wadey  Sheikh,  soon  entered  upon  a  dreary  and  desolate  waste, 
lifeless  and  herbless,  where  we  encamped  at  noon  ;  and  during 


166 


ROUTE  TOWARDS  AKABAH. 


the  afternoon  march  proceeded  through  a  scene  of  wild  gran¬ 
deur  which  deeply  affected  my  mind.  I  could  not  distinctly 
learn  its  Arab  designation,  nor  can  I  find  it  clearly  laid  down 
in  the  maps.  It  was  not  the  vastness  of  mountain  heights 
that  awed  me ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  region  had  once 
been  in  a  state  of  volcanic  fusion — as  if  the  mountains  had 
flowed  down  at  the  presence  of  Jehovah.  The  surface  was, 
in  most  parts,  as  white  as  drifted  snow.  This  was,  by  and 
by,  exchanged  for  the  most  remarkable  rocky  formation,  in 
horizontal  strata,  having,  in  some  parts,  the  appearance  of  ar¬ 
chitectural  remains  of  gigantic  proportions,  somewhat  like 
those  we  had  noticed  in  Wadey  Nassb  ;  and  in  others,  the 
rocks  appeared  like  Egyptian  pyramids,  worn  down  by  age 
and  storms.  The  silence  of  this  mountain  solitude  was  very 
impressive.  As  we  glided  along,  it  seemed  like  a  city  of  the 
dead.  While  encamped  at  noon,  a  sudden  squall  of  wind 
nearly  carried  away  our  tent.  I  managed,  by  a  strong  effort, 
to  grasp  it  firmly,  till  our  sleeping  Bedaween  were  aroused, 
who  soon  reinstated  it ;  but  we  were  sadly  annoyed  by  the 
clouds  of  sand  which  swept  around  us. 

At  the  early  part  of  the  day,  Sheikh  Suleiman  fell  sick. 
He  asked  if  I  were  a  Hakim  (a  physician),  and  whether  I 
would  give  him  medicine.  I  suspected  he  had  been  living 
too  freely,  while  having  access  to  the  kitchen-tent  during  the 
past  route,  and  also  while  we  rested  at  the  convent.  When 
by  themselves,  the  Bedaween  live  upon  the  most  spare  diet ; 
but  are  ready  to  partake  very  freely  of  European  fare  when  it 
comes  in  their  way.  I  prescribed  for  him  accordingly,  and 
bade  him  starve  for  two  days.  While  halting  at  noon,  he  be¬ 
came  worse — extremely  feverish,  and  unfit,  as  I  feared,  to  pro¬ 
ceed.  But  he  insisted  on  mounting  his  camel,  when  all  was 
ready.  The  poor  Bedaween  seemed  greatly  to  appreciate  my 
attention  to  their  Sheikh — greeted  me  with  hearty  Bisalaams , 
and  repeatedly  called  me  “ Hakim  tayeeb ,”  (good  physician.) 

The  Bedaween  are  amusing  people.  I  was  riding,  to-day 
beside  one  of  them,  named  Jumar ,  a  nephew  of  Suleiman, 
whose  beard  and  mustaches  were  of  rather  luxuriant  growth. 


ROUTE  TOWARDS  AKABAH - THE  MEZZENI. 


167 


He  made  many  signs  about  his  beard,  and  pointed  at  mine  ; 
but  all  I  could  understand,  was,  an  apparent  intention  to  re¬ 
mark,  that  Europeans  wore  beards  as  well  as  Bedaween. 
However,  I  was  mistaken ;  for  when  Hassenein  came  up,  I 
made  him  interpret :  and  the  secret  of  all  the  gesticulary  exer¬ 
cise,  was,  only  that  my  Bedawee  friend  wished  me  to  bestow 
on  him  a  pair  of  scissors,  with  which  to  trim  his  beard  into  a 
politer  shape. 

During  the  following  day,  our  route  lay  in  the  waste  and 
dreary  region  of  Debhet  er  Ramleh.  When  getting  the  cara¬ 
van  together,  Suleiman  presented  himself  with  every  indica¬ 
tion  of  improved  health.  He  talked,  shouted,  and  ordered — 
as  volubly  as  ever  ;  and,  approaching  me  as  I  walked  out 
from  the  tent — cried  “  Hakim  tayeeb — Hakim  tayeeb,”  and 
then  thrust  out  his  tongue,  and  made  me  feel  his  pulse,  to  be 
sure  of  his  amendment.  Soon  after  we  had  pitched  for  our  * 
noontide  rest,  in  came  Suleiman,  bringing  with  him  his  own 
jet-black  coffee-pot ;  and,  with  a  hearty  air  of  cordiality,  invi¬ 
ted  us  to  share  its  contents.  He  had  often  partaken  of  the 
chibouk  and  coffee  on  our  invitation ;  but  now,  he  was,  no 
doubt,  anxious  to  show  some  token  of  thankfulness  for  my 
sympathy  and  medical  success. 

We  encamped  at  noon,  just  within  the  borders  of  the  terri¬ 
tory  of  the  Mezzeni — a  powerful  tribe,  between  whom  and 
those  of  the  peninsula  of  Sinai,  was  a  feud  of  several  years 
standing,  arising  out  of  a  long  preferred  claim  of  the  former, 
to  be  the  escort  of  travellers  to  Akabah  (as  the  route  lies 
through  their  country),  but  which  had  been,  time  out  of  mind, 
monopolized  by  the  Sinaite  tribes.  Matters  had  proceeded  so 
far,  that  war  between  the  tribes  had  been  for  some  time  de¬ 
clared  ;  and  the  Mezzeni  were  as  determined  to  assert,  as  the 
Sinaite  tribes  to  resist,  by  force  of  arms,  the  offensive  claim. 

A  similar  spirit  is  now  manifesting  itself  throughout  the  De¬ 
sert,  whenever  tribes  have  reason  to  believe  they  are  numeri¬ 
cally  strong  enough  to  support  their  claims.  The  effect  of 
this,  as  it  spreads,  will  tend  to  make  the  Desert  journey  vexa¬ 
tious  and  trying,  if  not  personally  dangerous. 


168  DESERT  FEUD - ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  MEZZENI. 

When  making  our  bargain  at  Cairo  with  Suleiman,  for  safe 
eonduct  to  Akabah,  we  were  not  aware  of  the  existence  of  any 
feud  that  could  at  all  interfere  with  our  movements ;  nor, 
indeed,  did  we  know  of  any  such  thing,  till  we  were  encamp¬ 
ed,  when  Hassenein  told  us  that  Suleiman  was  apprehending 
an  attack  from  the  Mezzeni,  through  whose  territory  we  were 
then  about  to  pass.  We  looked  upon  this,  at  first,  as  one  of 
the  tricks  resorted  to  by  the  Bedaween  to  enhance  the  value 
of  their  services,  so  as  to  lay  claim  to  a  larger  backsheech , 
at  the  end  of  the  journey.  Certainly,  Suleiman  appeared 
anxious  and  ill  at  ease  ;  and  far  more  silent  and  thoughtful 
than  I  had  ever  seen  him  before.  But  this  I  ascribed  more  to 
the  brief  indisposition  he  had  suffered,  and  to  the  rather  strong 
remedies  I  had  applied,  than  to  any  other  cause. 

When  Hassenein  gave  us  the  information  above  referred  to 
I  recollected  that  during  the  afternoon  march  of  the  preceding 
day,  a  strange  Arab,  who  seemed  to  spring  out  of  the  earth  as 
it  were,  suddenly  joined  our  caravan,  and  was  in  earnest  con¬ 
versation  with  Suleiman,  apart ;  and  I  also  recalled  to  mind 
the  fact,  that  the  same  Arab  (who  had  the  appearance  and 
bearing  of  a  Sheikh)  had  joined  us  when  we  commenced  our 
morning  march  to-day,  and  had  left  us — I  knew  not  where  or 
when.  Hassenein  discovered  that  this  man  really  was  a 
Sheikh  of  the  Mezzeni ;  and  when  we  knew  this  to  be  the 
case,  I  felt  there  might  be  something  in  the  report  which  had 
reached  us  ;  and  that  care  and  vigilance  would  be  needful.  I 
dwell  the  more  minutely  on  these  matters  ;  for  the  narrative 
on  which  I  am  now  entering,  is  one  of  painful  and  distressing*, 
though  grateful,  recollection. 

When  the  caravan  had  been  in  motion,  this  afternoon,  for 
rather  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half,  in  an  extremely  desolate 
region,  where  one  could  hardly  have  expected  to  meet  a  hu¬ 
man  being  except  travellers  like  ourselves,  we  observed  a  lit¬ 
tle  stir  and  agitation  among  our  people,  accompanied  by  low 
and  repressed  observations  to  each  other.  Every  man  unslung 
his  matchlock  gun,  and  Suleiman  deliberately  primed  his, 
from  a  little  powder-flask  slung  at  his  belt.  I  caught  his  eye 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  MEZZENI. 


169 


at  the  moment.  There  was  a  silent  air  of  determination  ex¬ 
pressed  in  it,  which  induced  something  like  a  persuasion  in 
my  mind,  that  we  might,  perhaps,  meet  with  annoyance  from 
the  Mezzeni,  into  whose  territory  we  had  considerably  ad¬ 
vanced. 

It  was  not  long  before  three  of  our  party  went  forward  on 
foot,  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  quickly  turned  into  a  defile,  when  we 
lost  sight  of  them  for  a  time.  There  was  very  evident  anxie¬ 
ty  betrayed  by  those  who  remained  behind.  We  all  made  a 
pause — loaded  our  pistols  and  girded  on  our  sabres,  that  we 
might  appear  fully  prepared  for  what  was  to  happen.  At  this 
moment,  Suleiman  earnestly  begged  us  to  remain  behind  with 
the  camels,  while  he  and  the  rest  would  go  forward  to  meet  a 
small  party  of  the  Mezzeni,  who  were  then  just  in  sight,  and 
advancing  upon  us.  We  said — No:  we  had  no  fears;  and 
that  if  defence  were  necessary  we  would  help  to  defend  our¬ 
selves. 

We  moved  on.  Contrary  to  our  expectations,  Suleiman  fell 
back  almost  to  the  rear  of  the  caravan  ;  and  we  fancied  he 
was  disposed  to  “  show  a  white  feather.”  I  confess  I  began  to 
limit  my  confidence  in  him,  when  I  saw  this  movement.  We 
had  not  proceeded  far,  before  two  of  the  Mezzeni  advanced, 
in  company  with  our  three  Arabs,  who  had  left  us  a  little 
while  before.  They  salaamed  us  peaceably  enough  ;  and 
after  a  short  conference,  in  which  no  bitterness  was  betrayed, 
the  Mezzeni  retired  quietly  up  one  of  the  mountain  sides,  as 
if  all  had  been  adjusted ;  but  Hassenein,  who  had  obtained 
full  information,  told  us  that  a  larger  party  of  the  enemy  were 
to  give  us  a  meeting  at  a  fountain,  about  two  hours  distant, 
where  we  were  to  pitch  for  the  night ;  and  that  there  the  ques¬ 
tion  at  issue  was  to  be  adjusted,  if  possible. 

In  the  conference  which  had  already  taken  place,  the 
Mezzeni  claimed  their  right  to  conduct  us  to  Akabah,  and  to 
supply  the  requisite  camels,  at  a  price  to  be  then  and*  there 
agreed  on.  They  also  insisted  on  our  dismissing  Suleiman,  and 
the  rest  of  our  escort ;  promising,  that  if  we  would  put  our¬ 
selves  at  once  under  their  care,  they  would  fight  out  the 

15 


170 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  MEZZENI. 


question  with  Suleiman.  On  our  part,  Hassenein  said,  we 
had  made,  at  Cairo,  our  bargain  with  Suleiman  for  safe 
escort,  by  his  tribe,  to  Akabah,  and  that  we  intended  to  hold 
by  that  bargain  ;  but  that  they  and  Suleiman  might  come  to 
what  understanding  they  pleased,  so  that  we  were  conducted 
safely. 

There  was  manifest  uneasiness  about  Suleiman ;  and  he 
seemed  desirous  of  pressing  onwards,  instead  of  halting  at 
the  place  agreed  on.  This  looked  like  evasion,  and  was  dis¬ 
agreeable  to  us.  We  insisted  on  halting,  as  proposed  ;  and 
from  various  parts  of  the  Desert,  we  saw  first  one,  then  an¬ 
other  of  the  Mezzeni,  coming  slowly  down  towards  the  spot, 
till  a  considerable  group  of  them  were  seated  at  a  distance  of 
five  or  six  hundred  yards  from  our  place  of  encampment, 
Where  they  kindled  their  fires;  but  neither  conference  noi 
interruption  occurred.  We,  however,  thought  it  good  to  b^ 
on  the  watch  against  any  attack,  and  lay  down  partly  un¬ 
dressed.  No  disturbance  broke  in  upon  the  quietude  of  the; 
night. 

We  rose  next  morning  at  half-past  four,  and  were  engaged 
in  the  usual  preparations  for  resuming  our  march,  while  a< 
a  distance  sat  the  enemy  in  a  circle,  round  their  morning  fire, 
apparently  holding  a  council  of  war  ;  and  near  at  hand  was  a 
supply  of  their  camels,  which  had  been  brought  down  during 
the  night.  Suleiman  seemed  personally  disposed  to  stand 
aloof.  Several  of  our  Arabs  went  to  the  Mezzeni,  and  re¬ 
turned  without  any  satisfactory  result.  At  length  Suleiman, 
accompanied  by  Hassenein,  went  forward,  when  a  loud  and 
stormy  conversation  took  place — no  uncommon  thing,  as  an 
appendage  to  an  Arab  negotiation.  A  grave  ground  of 
offence,  however,  had  been  given  by  one  of  the  Mezzeni  seiz¬ 
ing  the  sabre  and  gun  of  one  of  our  party — a  heavy  loss  for  a 
Bedawee  Arab.  After  an  hour  spent  in  the  noisiest  declama¬ 
tion,  Hassenein  returned,  stating  that  the  question  had  at 
length  been  adjusted  by  a  compromise  ;  and  that  Suleiman  had 
agreed  to  take  and  pay  for  five  of  the  enemy’s  camels,  and 
to  dismiss  as  many  of  those  which  had  brought  us  from 


WADEY  EL  AYUN. 


171 


Cairo.  We  of  course  protested  against  having  any  additional 
camels  forced  upon  us,  either  by  Suleiman  or  the  Mezzeni ; 
and  gave  notice  to  the  former  that  we  should  not,  on  settling 
accounts  at  Akabah,  allow  of  any  alteration  in  the  terms  of 
our  contract  made  with  him  at  Cairo. 

At  half-past  six  we  were  all  loaded  ;  but  I  was  far  from 
being  favorably  impressed  by  the  physiognomy  and  bearing 
of  the  five  Mezzeni  to  whom  the  new  camels  belonged,  and 
who  were  to  become  part  of  our  escort.  I  was  sorry,  more¬ 
over,  to  lose  any  of  our  party  who  had  accompanied  us  so  far. 
But  it  was  not  to  be  avoided.  In  about  three  hours  we 
reached  the  entrance  of  Wadey  el  Ayun  (the  valley  of  the 
fountain),  after  having  passed  through  a  less  dreary  route 
than  we  had  traversed  the  day  before — enlivened  with  some 
few  traces  of  vegetation,  tamarisk  trees,  nackels,  and  the 
species  of  acacia  from  which  the  gum-arabic  is  procured.  In 
the  midst  of  these  was  a  continual  sound,  as  if  proceeding 
from  thousands  of  chirping  grasshoppers.  Multitudes  of 
small  lizards,  called  by  the  Arabs  Serebani ,  were  to  be  seen 
here,  as  well  as  in  many  other  parts  of  the  Desert,  shooting 
across  the  way  beneath  the  feet  of  the  camels. 

Near  the  mouth  of  Wadey  el  Ayun,  and  standing  on  a 
slight  rocky  elevation,  is  a  single  palm  tree,  of  no  very  con¬ 
siderable  size,  yet  visible  at  a  great  distance.  Around  it  are 
sedges,  rushes  and  such  like  succulent  plants,  giving  an  indi¬ 
cation  that  water  is  not  far  away.  We  pressed  onwards  with 
increasing  speed ;  and  the  servants  were  in  advance,  in  order 
to  secure  a  supply  of  fresh  water  for  our  use,  before  it  should 
be  soiled  by  watering  the  camels.  The  arrival  at  a  fountain 
is  always  a  notable  event  in  Desert  life.  I  have  often  recalled 
the  delight  with  which  I  reached  that  fountain,  and  drank  of 
its  refreshing  stream.  As  soon  as  we  had  provided  for  our¬ 
selves,  we  led  the  camels  down.  And  there,  too,  were  the 
Arabs  lying  flat  at  the  brink  of  the  water,  drinking  among 
the  carat's,  like  camels.  Wadey  el  Ayun  is  a  long  unbroken 
pass,  of  many  miles  extent,  along  which,  frequent  small 
streams  'trind  their  quiet  way,  garnished  in  the  most  lovel) 


172 


WADEY  EL  AYUN. 


manner  by  tamarisk  bushes  and  palm  clumps,  on  all  sides, 
Here  indeed  the  wilderness  seemed  to  put  off  its  savage  grin 
and  to  smile  in  verdant  gentleness  ;  though,  on  either  side  of 
this  narrow  pass,  the  rocks  are  bold,  lofty,  and  most  pic¬ 
turesque.  The  pass  itself  is  evidently  the  deep  bed  of  a  vast 
mountain  torrent,  winding  in  the  most  fantastic  manner,  and 
presenting  a  new  and  charming  picture  at  every  turn.  The 
slightest  sound  awakened  a  thousand  echoes  ;  and  there  was 
an  air  of  wildness  about  the  whole  party,  occasioned  by  the 
loud  and  harsh  voices  of  our  joyous  Bedaween  calling  forth 
replies,  in  every  variety  of  tone,  from  the  surrounding  rocks 
and  caverns  far  and  near. 

One  of  our  young  men  had  a  narrow  escape  from  serious 
danger,  in  this  remarkable,  and  in  some  parts  difficult,  pass. 
We  were  pursuing  our  course  over  a  shelving  rock.  He 
was  riding  next  in  advance  of  me.  His  camel  slipped  and 
fell  on  its  side,  and  in  an  instant  dashed  him  on  the  rock. 
This  was  the  only  false  step  I  ever  noticed  in  a  camel  during 
the  whole  journey.  I  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  called  loudly 
to  him  ;  but  before  I  could  conveniently  halt,  so  as  to  offer 
assistance,  he  sprang  upon  his  legs — shouting  out,  “  Tayeeb, 
tayeeb,  Khowaga”  (all  right,  Sir),  and  in  half  a  minute 
more,  he  and  his  camel  were  again  in  due  marching  order. 
It  was  quite  wonderful.  Neither  of  them  seemed  in  the  least 
degree  discomposed  or  hurt.  The  sun  bore  down  upon  us 
with  intense  heat,  so  that  by  ten  o’clock  we  were  glad  to 
pitch  our  tents  under  the  shade  of  a  wide-spreading  tamarisk 
tree,  of  great  age,  which  had  doubtless  been  the  temporary 
home  of  many  a  traveller,  and  many  a  Bedawee  party,  as 
indicated  by  the  remaining  ashes  of  bivouac  fires.  There 
was  a  tempestuous  appearance  in  the  atmosphere  ;  and  by 
and  by,  a  smart  shower  of  rain  fell,  the  drops  of  which 
evaporated  almost  as  fast  as  they  descended,  from  the  cloth 
of  the  tents.  While  writing  in  my  tent,  on  this  and  many 
other  occasions,  the  ink  actually  dried  in  my  pen  at  almost 
every  word. 

At  half  past  three  we  resumed  our  journey ;  but  there  was 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  MEZZENI. 


173 


plainly  something  wrong  between  Sheikh  Suleiman  and  the 
Mezzeni,  who  had  recently  joined  the  caravan ;  and  suddenly 
their  Sheikh  reappeared  amongst  us — but  from  whence  hi 
came  I  could  not  guess.  He  was  in  earnest  conversation 
with  the  men  of  his  tribe  ;  but  held  little  intercourse  with 
Suleiman.  He  was  a  cold,  subtle,  snaky  looking  fellow  ; 
and  always  created  an  uneasy  sensation  in  my  mind,  when  I 
happened  to  be  near  him ;  though  I  confess  that  towards  us, 
as  travellers,  his  bearing  was  inoffensive,  and  even  courteous. 
His  presence  always  seemed  to  bode  mischief,  and  contrivance 
for  the  purpose  of  mischief.  I  was  not  deceived  in  him,  as 
will  appear  by  and  by.  I  enquired  what  was  the  cause  of 
disquiet  in  the  caravan,  and  learnt  that  our  new  escoit  were, 
after  all,  unwilling  to  go  to  Akabah  ;  for  on  a  former  occa¬ 
sion,  two  of  their  tribe  got  bastinadoed  by  the  governor  there 
for  certain  Desert  pranks,  and  they  thought  it  quite  possible 
they  might  fall  in  for  a  share  of  the  like  discipline  ;  and  be* 
sides,  they  wanted  to  drive  a  fresh  bargain  for  more  money. 
We  had  nothing  to  do  with  this ;  but  certainly  I  had  it  in  my 
mind  to  get  the  guilty  one  bastinadoed  for  having  stolen  the 
sabre  and  gun  of  our  party  ;  and  I  had  plainly  said  as  much  ; 
which  perhaps  reached  their  ears,  and  they  supposed  it  possi¬ 
ble  that  they  might  all  be  deemed  guilty.  Whether  this  was 
the  case,  I  know  not ;  but  certain  it  is,  they  suddenly  pulled 
up,  and  refused  to  proceed ;  and  while  they  and  their  Sheikh 
were  gathered  together — squatting  on  the  sand — a  very  un¬ 
peaceful  and  discontented-looking  group,  we  passed  on,  having 
retained  the  Arabs  and  their  camels,  who  had  been,  in  effect, 
dismissed  when  the  Mezzeni  joined  us.  I  felt  persuaded, 
however,  that  this  must  lead  to  some  further  adventure. 

Suleiman’s  disquietude  was  visibly  increased ;  and  he 
strongly  urged  us  to  proceed  with  the  utmost  speed — hinting 
a  desire  that  we  should  make  a  forced  march  all  night,  so  as 
fairly  to  outstrip  the  enemy  ;  but  as  we  felt  persuaded  that 
his  cupidity  stood  in  the  way  of  adjustment,  and  was  one  of 
the  causes  of  the  annoyance,  we  replied  we  had  no  fear  what¬ 
ever  ;  yet  that  if  he  thought  himself  in  peril,  we  would  do 

15* 


174 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  MEZZENI. 


what  we  could  to  diminish  his  anxiety,  but  were  not  disposed 
to  march  all  night.  We  proceeded  at  full  camel  pace  for  up¬ 
wards  of  two  hours,  still  in  the  wild  pass  of  Wadey  el  Ayun, 
while  the  tempest  was  breaking  upon  us — rendered  more 
magnificent  by  the  rocky  scenery,  over  which  the  dense 
clouds  floated  and  burst  with  heavy  reverberations  of  thun 
der.  The  tempest  soon  spent  itself,  and  left  the  atmosphere 
calm  and  serene. 

On  making  an  abrupt  turn,  we  noticed  a  sudden  pause  and 
embarrassment  among  the  leaders  of  the  caravan  ;  and,  glanc¬ 
ing  off  to  the  right,  saw  a  large  company  of  the  Mezzeni 
rushing  down  the  rugged  side  of  a  steep  declivity,  with  wild 
clamor  and  vehement  gesticulation.  We  drew  up  at  once, 

and  assumed  an  attitude  of  defence,  while  some  of  our  escort 

/ 

advanced  and  held  a  noisy  parley  with  them.  We  found 
they  were  those  we  had  left  behind,  with  a  considerable  addi¬ 
tion  ;  and  that  they  had  made  a  short  cut  across  the  moun¬ 
tains,  on  foot,  in  the  expectation  of  thus  meeting  us  in  the 
pass  below.  Though  at  first  they  were  prepared  to  fire  upon 
us,  the  conference  seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  suspending 
hostilities ;  for  they  retired  up  the  mountain,  and  suffered  us 
to  pass  on  unmolested.  But  still,  Suleiman  was  ill  at  ease. 
The  sun  went  down  upon  us  gloomily,  and  we  continued  our 
star-lit  way,  over  many  a  rugged  mile,  trusting  all  to  the  in¬ 
stinct  of  our  camels,  till  about  nine  o’clock ;  when,  wearied 
and  somewhat  excited  by  the  stirring  events  of  the  day,  so 
novel  to  men  of  peaceful  habits  like  ourselves,  we  pitched 
again  for  the  night,  setting  a  watch  to  guard  against  surprise 
by  our  wily  enemies.  I  could  not  but  feel  my  mind  and 
imagination  much  acted  upon  by  the  kind  of  mystery  which 
hung  over  their  movements ;  and  this  was  rendered  more  in¬ 
tense  by  the  circumstance  of  every  conference  among  our 
own  party,  as  well  as  between  them  and  the  Mezzeni,  being 
carried  on  in  a  language  of  which  we  were  ignorant,  except  a 
few  words  and  phrases  of  common  usage.  I  passed  a  wake¬ 
ful  night — listening  to  the  myriads  of  grasshoppers  chanting 
in  full  chorus  till  daybreak. 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  MEZZENI. 


175 


The  next  day  was  the  Christian’s  day  of  rest.  We  had 
on  the  preceding  night,  given  directions  to  halt  during  the 
Sabbath  hours.  Suleiman  was  desirous  of  proceeding,  but  he 
obeyed  us.  It  was  a  charming  spot  in  which  we  encamped 
— an  amphitheatre  of  granite,  scattered  over  with  tamarisk 
trees  of  some  magnitude,  and  having  various  outlets  into 
opposite  parts  of  the  Desert.  It  was  a  svyeet  solitude,  in 
which  to  enjoy  the  liturgy  of  our  venerable  Church,  and  to 
think  of  our  beloved  flocks  assembled  in  the  house  of  prayer. 
The  140th  Psalm  was  among  those  appointed  for  the  morn¬ 
ing  service.  We  felt  and  remarked  upon  its  suitableness  for 
imparting  serenity  and  comfort  amidst  the  hostile  movements 
of  the  tribes  in  whose  territory  we  were  encamped. 

Some  of  our  Bedaween  discovered  there  were  flocks  near 
at  hand.  We  gave  orders  for  the  purchase  of  a  goat,  as  a 
present  to  our  party.  It  was  soon  procured,  dressed,  and 
eaten ;  and,  long  before  we  imagined  our  orders  had  been 
obeyed,  they  were  slumbering  after  their  morning  meal.  We 
expressed  our  surprise  to  Hassenein.  “  Oh,”  said  he — •“  Be¬ 
daween  never  leave  any  thing  for  to-morrow--eat  ’em  up  all 
at  once.” 

From  the  hour  of  noon,  a  continued  agitation  was  kept  up 
in  the  encampment  by  the  frequent  arrival  of  strange  Arabs, 
with  whom  Suleiman  and  the  rest  held  sometimes  loud  and 
angry,  and  at  other  times  repressed  and  subdued  conversations. 
It  was,  doubtless,  upon  the  old  theme.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
strife  between  the  tribes  was  gathering  up  to  a  storm  that 
must  break.  Suddenly  the  Sheikh  of  the  Mezzeni,  who  had 
several  times  been  amongst  us,  again  made  his  appearance. 
He  was  immediately  engaged  in  earnest  conference  with 
Suleiman.  There  was  a  doggedness  in  his  manner  which 
boded  no  good.  By  and  by  a  message  was  brought  to  us 
from  him,  inquiring  whether  we  would  pay  a  certain  sum,  on 
condition  that  he  should  peaceably  join  our  caravan,  and  give 
us  safe  conduct  through  his  territory.  Believing  this  to  be 
one  of  Suleiman’s  contrivances,  to  save  his  own  pocket,  and 
alter  the  terms  of  our  contract ;  and  feeling  that  if  we  submit' 


176 


ARAB  SUPERSTITION. 


ted  to  such  a  thing,  future  travellers  might  suffer  imposition 
as  the  consequence,  we  said — ■“  No  !  we  would  give  nothing. 
We  had  made  our  bargain  with  Suleiman,  and  intended  to 
abide  by  it.”  Here  the  matter  ended,  so  far  as  we  were  con¬ 
cerned  ;  but  as  the  Sheikh  of  the  Mezzeni  (Sheikh  Furriqh,  as 
he  was  named)  was  just  retiring  towards  one  of  the  mountain 
passes,  Hassenein,  who  was  fond  of  burning  gunpowder,  fired 
off  several  pistols  in  quick  succession,  for  the  purpose  of  clean¬ 
ing  and  putting  them  in  good  order.  Furriqh  returned  evi¬ 
dently  angry,  as  if  the  fire  arms  had  been  discharged  as  a  note 
of  defiance.  Another  strange  Arab  arrived  at  the  same  time, 
and  communicated  something  to  him  in  a  whisper ;  when, 
without  uttering  another  word  to  any  of  our  party,  Furriqh 
left  the  encampment,  with  an  expression  of  determination  in 
his  manner  which  I  shall  never  forget.  From  that  moment 
I  believed  danger  to  be  at  hand  ;  but  yet  I  was  calmly  assured 
that  we  had  an  arm  stronger  than  man’s  about  us.  Yet  it 
was  an  uneasy  position,  in  a  strange  land— among  strangers, 
who  have  no  law  but  that  of  the  sword. 

At  half-past  three,  Suleiman,  with  some  degree  of  agitation, 
earnestly  begged  us  to  prepare  to  march  :  and  soon  began 
plucking  up  the  tent  pins,  crying — u  Yellah — yellah,”  (make 
haste),  to  his  followers.  We  were  soon  ready  and  mounted, 
and  were  surprised  to  see  a  cross,  smeared  with  some  red 
color,  on  the  necks  and  haunches  of  the  camels.  We  in¬ 
quired  what  it  meant.  It  was  the  blood  of  the  goat  which 
had  been  that  day  given  to  the  Bedaween.  What  was  the 
intention  of  the  sign  so  made  in  blood?  We  could  get  no 
satisfactory  answer ;  but  only  a  notion  of  some  superstition, 
like  that  of  sprinkling  the  dust  from  a  Sheikh’s  tomb  on  the 
heads  of  the  camels.* 

*  I  have  met  with  a  notice  of  this  custom,  in  Dr.  Robinson’s  recent  work 
vol.  i.  p.  269.  “  Our  Arabs  bought  of  their  visitors  (from  the  Haiwat  tribe) 
a  kid,  which  they  killed  as  a  redemption  (Arabic,  Fedu ),  in  order,  as  thej 
said,  that  its  death  might  redeem  their  camels  from  death,  and  also  as  j. 
sacrifice  for  the  prosperity  of  our  journey.  With  the  blood  they  smeareu 
crosses  upon  the  necks  of  their  camels,  and  on  other  parts  of  their  bodies. 
Such  sacrifices  are  frequent  among  them.  This  mark  of  the  cross  wt- 
supposed  they  had  probably  imitated  from  their  neighbors,  the  Monks  ol 
Sinai  •  or  perhaps  they  made  it  as  one  of  their  simplest  marks.” 


WADEY  EL  AYUN - FOUNTAIN. 


77 


It  was  during  this  march  that  we  discovered  Suleiman’s 
disobedience,  in  taking  us  by  a  way  contrary  to  that  we  had 
desired.  We  remonstrated  with  him,  and  demanded  the 
reason.  He  then  freely  confessed  he  had  been  all  along 
afraid  to  go  by  the  usual  route,  on  account  of  the  determined 
state  of  the  Mezzeni,  for  that  would  have  led  him  too  near 
their  general  encampment.  He  had  hoped,  by  taking  the 
longer  and  more  unusual  route,  to  elude  them  altogether. 
But  events  now  proved  how  sadly  he  had  been  mistaken. 

We  had  therefore  nothing  to  do,  but  to  make  our  best 
speed.  We  pressed  onwards  through  one  of  the  noblest 
mountain  passes  that  was  ever  seen ;  and  it  was  a  fine  picture 
to  see  our  caravan  winding  its  way  upwards  and  downwards 
over  dreary  and  difficult  ways,  fit  only  for  the  desert-practised 
foot  of  the  camel.  We  were  a  wild-looking  set. 

We  had  entertained  fears  of  falling  short  of  water  before 
reaching  Akabah ;  and,  moreover,  such  water  as  we  had  with 
us  was  becoming  disagreeable  and  unwholesome.  Imagine 
our  delight,  when  Suleiman,  who  was  somewhat  in  advance, 
looked  up  joyfully  to  the  mountain  heights  on  the  right, 
crying  at  the  top  of  his  stentorian  voice,  u  Moyia,  moyia 
tayeeb”  (good  water).  On  reaching  the  bold  rock,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  cleft  by  a  hand  of  mercy  and  goodness, 
we  found  a  deep  fissure,  down  which  there  coursed  a  small 
stream,  depositing  in  several  natural  cisterns  formed  on  the 
ledges  of  the  rock,  clean,  sweet,  delicious  water.  In  an  instant 
we  were  all  dismounted,  and  busied  equally  in  quenching  our 
thirst,  watering  the  camels,  and  replenishing  the  water  skins 
for  the  rest  of  the  journey.  I  have  drunk  the  wines  of 
France,  of  Italy,  and  of  the  Rhine,  and  thought  them  delicious; 
hut  there  was  something  beyond  them  all  in  this  precious 
water  of  El  Ayun. 

To  the  very  latest  day  of  my  existence,  I  think  I  shall 
remember  the  march  we  made  after  quitting  these  sweet 
waters. 

In  evident  anxiety,  Suleiman  proposed  two  things ;  first 
that  we  should  encamp,  in  about  an  hour,  at  an  unusual  spot. 


178 


NIGHT  MARCH. 


that  the  enemy  who  were  pursuing  us  might  he  deceived 
and  get  far  ahead  of  us ;  or,  secondly,  that  we  should  proceed 
onwards  throughout  the  night  at  our  best  speed,  till  nine 
o’clock  on  the  following  morning.  We  declined  the  former, 
because  we  were  anxious  to  reach  Akabah  as  speedily  as  pos¬ 
sible  ;  and  as  to  the  latter,  we  expressed  our  willingness  to  go 
as  far  and  as  long  as  we  should  be  able.  u  Tayeeb,  tayeeb,” 
said  he — and  we  moved  on.  The  sun  soon  set  upon  us,  and 
the  quickly  coming  darkness  spread  its  mantle,  while  the  vast 
mountain-masses  were  piled  up  about  us.  From  half-past 
three  till  a  few  minutes  before  twelve  at  night,  we  pressed 
forwards;  and  not  one  false  step  did  our  poor  weary  camels 
make  over  that  fearfully  difficult  mountain-pass.  By  degrees 
all  conversation  among  the  Arabs  dropped  off,  as  if  slumber 
rested  on  all  spirits:  but  there  really  was  a  sad  wakefulness 
in  the  silence  which  prevailed.  I  believe  we  were  all  pos¬ 
sessed  with  a  belief  that  we  should  be  attacked  by  some  party 
of  the  Mezzeni,  lying  in  wait  for  us ;  and  we  held  ourselves 
prepared.  If  a  word  dropped  from  any  one,  Suleiman  ordered 
silence,  as  if  there  should  be  nothing  but  the  tramp  of  the 
camels  to  give  intimation  of  our  approach ;  and  as  if  he 
desired  to  catch  any  distant  sound  of  voices.  Poor  fellow !  I 
have  reason  now  to  think  that  he  was  bowed  down  with  ap 
prehension.  The  Mezzeni  were  up,  and  they  were  many — 
we  were  but  few,  and  could  have  no  reinforcement.  The 
greater  part  of  our  night’s  march  was  through  Wadey  Wetir; 
and  in  the  dim  shadowy  light  which  the  stars  and  rising  moon 
afforded,  the  rocks  on  either  side  presented  the  idea  of  a  mas¬ 
sive  city,  where  dome  and  tower  and  gigantic  colonnade 
strove  for  pre-eminence.  To  my  own  mind,  the  effect  of  the 
scene,  and  of  the  occasion,  was  almost  overpowering.  My 
recollection  of  this  night’s  journey,  now  while  I  am  writing, 
is  more  like  that  of  a  feverish  dream  than  a  transaction  of  real 
life.  By  the  mercy  of  God,  we  came  in  perfect  safety  to  the 
end  of  Wadey  Wetir,  and  found  ourselves  at  length  on  an 
extensive  plain,  with  the  Red  Sea,  or  gulph  of  Akabah.  on 
our  right,  and  the  little  peninsula  of  Nuweibia,  the  principa 


MURDER  OF  SHEIKH  SULEIMAN. 


179 


encampment  of  the  Mezzeni,  at  a  good  distance  behind  us. 
Here  Suleiman  was  content  that  we  should  encamp  for  tin 
night,  taking  up  such  a  position  as  might  best  conceal  the 
light  of  our  fires.  We  pitched  our  tents  in  silence  and  in 
safety ;  and  the  newly  risen  moon  shed  her  pale  lustre  on  the 
smooth  waters  of  the  Red  Sea.  The  sense  of  repose  which 
we  were  thus  permitted  to  enjoy,  after  such  a  march,  was 
indescribable.  1  slept  soundly  as  if  all  apprehension  of  danger 
was  past. 

I  was  awakened  for  a  few  minutes,  as  early  as  three  o’clock 
on  the  following  morning,  by  the  sound  of  many  voices  in 
loud  and  earnest  conversation,  amongst  which  I  recognized 
that  of  Sheikh  Suleiman  ;  but  as  noisy  conversations,  at  such 
early  hours,  are  by  no  means  uncommon,  with  these  restless 
spirits  of  the  wilderness,  I  gave  no  heed  to  it,  and  composed 
myself  for  sleep  again,  intending  to  rise  by  about  half  after 
four,  in  order  to  get  a  dip  in  the  Red  Sea,  before  resuming 
the  march ;  and  this  intention  I  fulfilled ;  but  just  while 
throwing  on  the  few  clothes  I  had  taken  with  me,  I  heard 
suddenly  a  loud  strife  of  many  tongues  bursting  forth,  not  in 
our  encampment,  but  in  a  small  copse  or  grove  of  palm  trees, 
about  two  hundred  yards  distant.  At  once  the  thought  rushed 
upon  my  mind,  that  the  Mezzeni  had  overtaken  us,  and  were 
meditating  an  attack,  now  that  we  were  so  near  the  place  of 
their  main  encampment.  This  was  directly  confirmed  by  the 
sound  of  a  gun-shot  in  the  palm-grove,  which  was  soon  fol¬ 
lowed  up  by  a  second.  I  ran  up  towards  the  encampment  as 
rapidly  as  possible  ;  and  just  as  I  reached  it,  another  shot  rang 
awfully  upon  my  ear.  I  found  our  party  in  a  state  of  the 
greatest  consternation,  and  gathered  closely  together,  gazing 
wildly  towards  the  grove.  The  first  thing  I  learnt,  was  the 
harrowing  fact,  that  poor  Suleiman  had  just  been  murdered 
by  the  Mezzeni!  It  was  an  astounding  announcement.  To 
what  would  this  desperate  blow  lead — here,  in  the  Desert? 
The  prospect  of  further  bloodshed  was  terrible.  It  would 
have  been  insupportable,  but  for  the  influence  of  that  inward 
calmness  which  is  the  privilege  of  the  chi.dren  of  God.  We 


180 


MURDER  OF  SHEIKH  SULEIMAN. 


were  braced  up  for  the  worst,  and  stood  gazing  upon  the  scene, 
in  full  expectation  that  out  of  a  deep  and  deadly  spirit  of  re¬ 
venge,  we  should  be  immediately  overpowered  by  the  enemy, 
and  held  entirely  at  their  mercy — as  any  show  of  defence 
against  so  many  as  had  now  come  down  upon  us,  would  have 
been  utterly  futile,  and  might  have  led  to  the  destruction  of  us 
all.  How  wild  and  desolate  this  awful  theatre  of  death  ap¬ 
peared,  while,  with  the  sound  of  gun-shots  still  vibrating  in 
our  ears,  we  thought  of  Suleiman  writhing  in  his  death- 
throes,  and  anxiously  watched  the  movements  of  the  murder¬ 
ers.  We  were  motion  Jess — almost  breathless.  Each  man 
among  us  gazed  silently  upon  his  fellow.  Our  suspense  was 
not  of  great  duration,  but  long  enough  to  get  the  heart  secret¬ 
ly  lifted  up  in  communion  with  a  God  of  mercy.  And  there 
was  sweet  peacefulness  in  that  brief  exercise. 

- My  worst  fears  were  groundless.  The  hearts  of  all 

men  are  in  God’s  hands.  Our  helplessness  must  have  been  a 
powerful  matter  of  temptation  to  the  blood-stained  men,  over 
whom  the  departed  soul  of  Suleiman  was  hovering.  But  God 
restrained  them. - 

Having  slaughtered  their  victim,  the  Mezzeni  (of  whom 
about  forty  were  counted),  quietly  marched  back  towards 
Nuweibia,  without  exchanging  even  a  word  with  us  ;  leaving 
behind  them  the  corpse  of  poor  Suleiman — a  sad  memorial  of 
their  malignant  vengeance  ;  while  several  others  of  their  tribe, 
who  had  been  lying  in  ambush  beyond  the  scene  of  terror, 
came  forth  from  their  hiding  places,  and  joined  their  retreating 
comrades. 

My  heart  almost  sickens  at  the  recollection  of  this  dreadful 
transaction,  while  referring  to  the  notes  made  on  the  spot,  and 
compiling  from  them  the  particulars  of  this  sad  page. 

As  soon  as  the  enemy  had  fairly  departed,  I  took  Hassenein 
with  me,  and  advanced  carefully  towards  the  copse  of  palm 
trees,  where  I  found  the  mangled  body  of  poor  Suleiman 
quite  dead,  but  with  the  agony  of  the  death-pang  still  visible 
on  his  sunburnt  and  swarthy  features.  It  was  a  terrible  sight, 
thus  to  behold  the  leader  and  confidential  companion  of  our 


SHEIKH  SULEIMAN. 


181 


wild  route,  lying  as  the  clods  of  the  valley,  and  saturated  with 
his  own  life-blood.  And  how,  in  a  Christian’s  heart,  was  the 
sense  of  the  sad  reality  heightened,  by  knowing  that  the  poor 
sufferer  was  a  follower  of  the  false  prophet — a  Mahommedan 
■ — ignorant  of  Him  who  was  “  delivered  for  our  offences,  and 
raised  again  for  our  justification.”  I  have  seen  death  in  many 
forms  ;  but  I  never  beheld  it  with  so  dread  an  aspect  as  it  here 
assumed. 

I  was  more  than  half  inclined  to  withhold  the  minute  par 
ticulars  of  the  dark  tragedy,  when  arriving  at  this  part  of  my 
narrative  ;  but  they  now  fasten  themselves  upon  my  mind 
and  I  feel  constrained  to  leave  them  on  record. 

Suleiman  had  received  three  balls  through  his  body,  and 
four  sabre-gashes  on  his  head,  which  was  also  nearly  severed 
from  the  trunk  ;  and  his  right  arm,  which  had  been  evidently 
raised  in  an  attempt  at  warding  off  a  blow,  was  all  but  divided 
near  the  wrist.  We  returned  to  the  encampment,  where  our 
Arabs  were  sitting  together,  still  terrified.  At  length,  a  few 
of  them  who  volunteered  their  aid,  went  and  washed  the 
body — wrapped  it  in  an  unfolded  turban,  and  prepared  it  for 
immediate  interment.  They  hastily  formed  a  resting  place, 
about  a  mile  upwards,  towards  the  hills  which  skirted  the 
plain  in  which  we  were  encamped,  by  raising  four  walls  of 
large  loose  stones.  Having  made  all  ready,  they  brought  up 
the  remains  of  their  leader,  laid  across  the  back  of  his  camel, 
and,  with  deep  emotion,  deposited  them  in  their  final  abode, 
arching  it  over  with  large  masses  of  stone,  and  quitting  it 
with  what  appeared  to  me  like  deep  expressions  of  vengeance 
against  the  tribe,  on  which  lay  the  guilt  of  his  murder. 

- 1  turned  away  from  the  tomb  with  a  heavy  heart.  .  .  . 

Was  my  way  to  the  Holy  City  of  my  God  to  be  tracked  with 
blood  ? - 

On  making  a  careful  inquiry  into  the  particulars  immedi¬ 
ately  connected  with  this  sad  catastrophe,  I  collected  the  fol¬ 
lowing  : — It  appeared  that  while  we  were  resting  on  the  pre¬ 
vious  day  at  Wadey  el  Ayun,  the  Mezzeni  came  down  in 
order  to  make  a  final  effort  at  supporting,  without  bloodshed, 

16 


182 


SHEIKH  SULEIMAN. 


their  claim  to  conduct  travellers  through  their  territorry  to 
Akabah.  Sheikh  Furriqh  was  of  the  number,  as  I  have  al¬ 
ready  stated.  When  he  was  about  to  retire,  after  an  unsuc¬ 
cessful  attempt,  an  Arab  of  his  tribe  came  and  secretly  in¬ 
formed  him  that  his  (Furriqh’s)  nephew  had  been  shot  on  the 
previous  day  by  one  of  Suleiman’s  tribe,  in  reference  to'the 
very  question  then  pending.  On  receiving  this  information, 
Furriqh  at  once  broke  off  all  negociation,  and  quitted  the  en¬ 
campment.  It  is  believed  that  Suleiman  never  knew  the  fact 
which  had  been  communicated  to  Furriqh;  but  news  was 
brought  to  him  that  the  Mezzeni  intended  to  pursue  us  with 
an  increased  force ;  and  this  quite  accounts  for  all  the  anxiety 
and  timidity  which  he  evinced  during  the  afternoon  and  even¬ 
ing  preceding  his  death.  It  appears  that  the  Mezzeni,  bent 
on  accomplishing  their  purpose,  gathered  together  their  force, 
and,  following  us  at  dromedary  speed,  arrived  at  the  encamp¬ 
ment  as  early  as  two  o’clock  in  the  morning — that  a  deputa- 
’  tion  from  them  came  to  Suileman,  while  some  of  the  rest 
remained  in  the  palm-grove,  and  others  went  in  advance,  and 
formed  ambuscades — that  Sheikh  Furriqh  was  one  of  the 
deputation — that  Suleiman  shewed  them  the  usual  hospitality 
of  breaking  bread  with  them — that  the  conference  ended 
without  any  adjustment  of  the  matter  in  dispute — that  after 
the  deputation  had  retired  to  the  copse,  two  Arabs  of  a  neu¬ 
tral  tribe,  who  had  come  with  us  from  Mount  Sinai,  went  to 
the  Mezzeni  in  order  to  mediate,  but  were  unsuccessful — that 
while  they  remained,  Suleiman  was  sent  for,  and  that  having 
broken  bread  with  the  Mezzeni,  he  had  a  right  to  expect  that 
his  life  would  be  held  sacred — that  Suleiman  had  scarcely 
reached  the  adverse  party,  when  Sheikh  Furriqh  said — We 
do  not  care  about  the  money,  but  there  is  blood  between  us 
— that  instantly  one  of  the  Mezzeni  shot  him  through  the 
body,  and  that  Furriqh  cut  him  down  with  his  sabre,  while 
two  other  shots  which  were  fired  took  effect  upon  him.  My 
recollection  of  Furriqh,  from  the  first  moment  that  he  ap¬ 
peared  in  our  caravan,  is  such  as  to  convince  me  that  he 
would  readily  commit  such  an  act  as  this — so  subtle — so 


THE  JOURNEY  RESUMED. 


183 


cruel — so  cowardly — without  one  feeling  of  remorse  or  mis¬ 
giving. 

Our  future  movements  towards  Akabah  now  became  mat¬ 
ter  of  anxious  consideration.  We  were  still  in  the  enemy’s 
land  ;  but  we  had  no  leader.  Jumar — Sheikh  Suleiman’s 
nephew,  was  next  in  weight  and  authority.  We  told  him 
we  must  now  rely  on  him  for  safe  convoy.  He  replied  he 
dared  not  stay,  but  must  proceed  alone  at  full  speed  to  Aka¬ 
bah.  He  feared  lest,  as  a  relative  of  Suleiman,  he  should  be 
singled  out  as  the  object  of  some  further  vengeance.  He 
kissed  our  hands — mounted  the  dead  Sheikh’s  powerful 
camel,  and  soon  was  out  of  sight.  We  felt  that  now  the 
management  of  the  caravan  must  be  in  our  own  hands.  Our 
terrified  Bedaween  seemed  quite  helpless  ;  and  I  almost  feared 
they  would  refuse  to  proceed.  We,  however,  bade  Hassenein 
speak  to  them  in  the  most  determined  manner,  and  at  length 
they  expressed  their  willingness  to  resume  the  march.  It 
was  then  late  in  the  morning  for  getting  in  motion  ;  but  we 
felt  the  painfulness  and  anxiety  of  delay  in  such  a  spot ;  so — 
helping  them  to  collect  and  drive  together  the  camels,  some 
of  which  had  strayed  to  a  distance,  we  got  all  loaded  between 
eight  and  nine  o’clock,  and  were  again  on  our  way,  taking 
into  our  service  a  feeble  old  Sheikh,  of  a  friendly  tribe, 
through  whose  territory  we  had  yet  to  pass,  and  who  had 
joined  Suleiman  on  the  previous  day  at  Wadey  el  Ayun,  and 
accompanied  us  thus  far. 

It  was  with  heavy  hearts  that  we  resumed  our  march,  along 
the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea,  which  presented  but  little  variety 
of  aspect  to  arrest  our  minds,  and  divert  them  from  the  sad 
thoughts  that  were  dwelling  within.  Often  and  often  I 
glanced  backwards,  and  around,  to  see  that  we  were  not  pur¬ 
sued  by  our  late  assailants,  or  any  others  of  their  tribe.  W e 
passed  on  in  safety,  and  made  a  short  halt  at  noon ;  but  soon 
were  again  mounted,  in  drder  to  encamp  for  the  night,  if 
possible,  beyond  the  bounds  of  the  enemy’s  territory.  We 
proceeded  for  nearly  seven  hours  almost  in  silence.  It  was  a 
dreary  time  The  thick  darkness  overtook  us,  but  was  soon 


184 


EL  HANEKH. 


dispelled  by  the  bright  dominion  of  the  stars,  which  in  thi 
latitude  are  peculiarly  lustrous.  The  moon  had  not  risen. 
At  about  eight  o’c'ock,  we  saw  ahead  of  us,  at  some  distance, 
a  light  as  of  a  bivouac  fire.  It  struck  a  new  panic  in  the 
hearts  of  our  poor  affrighted  Bedaween  ;  and  I  confess  I  was 
rather  ill  at  ease ;  for  the  events  of  this  and  the  preceding 
days  had  made  my  mind  exceedingly  sensitive.  I  believe  it 
was  supposed  by  some  of  our  party,  that  the  light  before  us 
was  from  the  fires  of  some  of  the  Mezzeni,  who,  as  they 
imagined,  were  in  wait  near  their  borders,  to  strike  a  final 
blow.  It  certainly  seemed  a  probable  supposition.  But  we 
slowly  continued  our  route,  and  at  last  lost  sight  of  the  light ; 
and,  passing  by  the  spot  at  which  we  thought  it  had  appeared, 
pitched  our  tents,  and  passed  the  night  in  safety — giving 
thanks  for  the  mercies  we  had  experienced. 

At  six  o’clock  on  the  following  morning  we  were  again 
in  motion,  still  coasting  along  the  Red  Sea,  till  we  came  to  a 
vast  promontory,  which  seemed  to  forbid  any  further  advance 
in  a  direct  line ;  while  on  our  left,  turning  off  in  a  north* 
westerly  direction,  was  a  -  defile  leading  to  the  savage  and 
extremely  difficult  pass  of  El  Hanekh,  which  occupied  all  the 
time  till  our  noontide  rest.  It  is  one  of  those  wild  scenes  of 
which  words  can  give  no  idea.  It  looks  as  if  the  footsteps  of 
man  had  never  invaded  its  fastnesses;  and  in  some  places  is 
so  rugged  and  steep,  that  we  were  glad  to  dismount,  and  both 
climb  and  descend  with  wary  heedfulness.  Here  and  there 
we  met  with  broken  acacias,  over  which  a  thousand  uptearing 
tempests  seemed  to  have  passed  ;  while  masses  of  rocks,  which 
had  toppled  from  their  heights,  blocked  up  the  dreary  pass. 
It  was  wearisome  work  for  the  poor  patient  camels  to  make 
their  way.  Having  mastered  the  more  difficult  parts,  we 
.entered  upon  an  extensive  sandy  and  stony  plain,  scattered 
over  with  acacia  clumps,  with  a  burning  sun  overhead — 
when,  by  and  by,  to  our  great  delight,  we  again  hailed  the 
bright  waters  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  pitched  for  the  midday 
rest  on  a  charming  smooth  sandy  beach,  just  opposite  the 


AKABAH. 


185 


little  island  of  Graia,  called  by  the  Arabs,  Kalat  el  Dier  *  It 
was  charming,  after  the  fatigue  of  the  morning  march,  to 
bathe  in  those  sparkling  waves,  beneath  which  multitudes  of 
coral  groves  were  distinctly  visible.  W e  were  now  fairly  out 
of  reach  of  the  Mezzeni,  and  in  the  territory  of  friendly  Arabs, 
with  their  Sheikh  among  our  escort.  We  enjoyed,  therefore, 
our  noontide  rest,  with  every  assurance  of  safety. 

Soon  after  commencing  the  afternoon  march,  our  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  what  appeared  like  a  narrow  strip  of  lam 
studded  with  palm  trees,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Red 
Sea  ;  but  yet  so  distant  as  to  be  very  indistinct,  thofigh  the 
sun  was  brightly  bearing  down  upon  it.  This  was  Akabah 
• — the  point  of  our  destination.  After  what  we  had  expe¬ 
rienced,  it  was  indeed  delightful,  even  at  such  a  distance,  to 
gaze  towards  the  termination  of  our  second  desert  route.  We 
toiled  onwards,  but  still  it  appeared  very  distant ;  yet  we  quite 
calculated  on  reaching  it  at  some  time  during  the  evening  or 
night.  At  length,  after  having  passed  Wadey  Merakh,  and 
Wadey  Taba,  scattered  over  with  palm  trees,  and  others  bear¬ 
ing  a  curious  shelled  fruit,  called  the  Dom  (of  which  the 
Arabs  eat  freely,  though  it  is  unpalatable  enough),  we  came 
to  the  head  of  the  gulph  ;  and  immediately  before  us,  lay  the 
palm-groves  of  Akabah.  Darkness  overtook  us  before  we 
reached  them  ;  and  it  was  one  of  the  most  picturesque  things 
I  ever  witnessed,  to  see  great  numbers  of  bivouac  fires  quickly 
lighted  in  various  parts  of  the  groves,  around  which  were 
gathered  large  parties  of  the  desert  inhabitants,  with  their 
wild  features  and  costume  brilliantly  illuminated.  Akabah 
is  quite  a  place  of  resort  for  all  tribes  and  travellers  passing 
on  either  of  the  routes — east,  west,  north,  or  south.  The 
groves  afford  them  a  temporary  home.  Akabah  was  literally 
swarming  with  Arabs — especially  the  Aloeens  and  other 

neighboring  tribes  of  Edom. 

©  © 

*  This  little  Island,  on  which  there  are  yet  the  remains  of  bold  fortifica¬ 
tions,  served  from  an  early  period,  as  a  defence  of  the  port  of  Elath,  against 
tribes  whom  it  was  always  difficult  to  subdue.  In  the  time  of  the  crusades, 
it  became  a  theatre  of  Christian  valor;  but  was  totally  abandoned  as  fai 
back  as  the  fourteenth  century. 


16* 


186 


AKABAH. 


In  the  midst  of  the  palm-groves  is  the  little  fortress  of  Aka* 
bah,  in  which  is  placed  a  Turkish  governor — with  a  small 
body  of  irregular  and  ragged  soldiery.  Here  government 
stores  are  kept  for  the  supply  of  the  Hadj  caravans  to  Mecca ; 
and  something  like  a  show  of  authority  is  exercised  over  the 
neighboring  tribes,  who  are,  after  all,  more  easily  led  than 
driven.  Some  travellers  have,  in  prospect  of  greater  safety, 
obtained  admission  to  the  fortress  as  their  home  during  their 
brief  stay.  We  preferred  having  our  tents  pitched  under  the 
walls,  on  the  western  side,  so  as  to  occupy  a  nice  shady  spot 
on  the  very  brink  of  the  gulph  of  Akabah,  commanding  the 
loveliest  mountain  scenery  imaginable. 

On  reaching  Akabah,  our  Bedaween  brought  us  up  to  this 
position.  When  we  had  arrived,  I  could  scarcely  see  any 
object  but  the  tall  palm  trees  above  me  ;  when  suddenly  1 
felt  a  hand  drawing  the  halter  of  the  camel  from  mine,  and 
preparing  to  make  the  animal  kneel  down  for  me  to  dismount. 
I  guessed  it  was  a  friend ;  but  I  knew  not  who  it  was. 
Scarcely  had  the  camel  knelt  on  the  sand,  when  I  found  my¬ 
self  grasped  by  a  pair  of  strong  arms,  and  fairly  lifted  off  my 
saddle.  I  was  next  kissed  on  both  cheeks  by  a  rough  bearded 
person,  after  the  Arab  manner,  who,  with  a  sobbing  voice, 
pronounced  the  name  of  u  Suleiman.”  I  recognized  the 
voice  of  poor  Jumar,  who  had  reached  Akabah  in  safety,  and 
was  the  first  to  greet  us  in  this  affecting  way.  It  quite 
touched  my  heart,  thus,  in  a  wild  spot  of  the  earth,  to  be 
greeted  as  by  a  friend.  I  felt  as  if  Akabah  was  a  home  for 
me.  Jumar  had  related  to  others  of  his  tribe,  whom  he  found 
there,  the  sad  story  of  our  journey  from  Mount  Sinai  ;  and 
soon  he  brought  to  us  Toualeb — a  Sheikh  of  the  Oualed 
Said,  who  greeted  us  cordially  ;  and  told  Hassenein  that  had 
they  not  seen  us  approaching  towards  the  head  of  the  gulph 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  he  should  have  sent  off  an 
Arab  with  a  dromedary,  to  make  inquiries  about  us  ;  for  he 
had  entertained  great  fears  for  our  safety. 

At  present,  besides  the  little  fortress,  Akabah  contains  only 
a  few  rude  habitations  of  the  most  wretched  kind — a  dreary 


AKA BAH. 


187 


contrast  to  its  former  greatness,  when  Solomon  sent  from 
thence  his  ships  to  Ophir,  and  there  constructed  his  vessels.* 

At  Akabah,  the  engagement  with  our  Sinaite  Arabs  termi¬ 
nated  ;  except  that  by  their  contract  they  were  to  wait  two 
days  while  we  should  determine  upon  our  future  movements 
Our  desire  was  to  pass  through  Edom,  and  to  visit  the  far 
famed  ruins  of  Petra  ;  and  thence  pass  onwards  to  the  Holy 
Land  by  way  of  Hebron  ;  in  which  case  it  would  have  been 
needful  to  put  ourselves  under  the  escort  of  the  Aloeens,  the 
most  powerful  tribe  of  Edom,  and  dismiss  our  Sinaite  friends, 
who  never  venture  to  conduct  a  caravan  through  that  pecu¬ 
liar  region,  of  which  Sheikh  Hussein  has,  for  a  long  time 
past,  been  the  mighty  autocrat. 

To  make  a  bargain  with  Bedaween  Arabs  in  Cairo,  is  no 
difficult  matter.  In  the  heart  of  the  Desert  it  is  a  very  differ¬ 
ent  thing.  And  their  cupidity  and  meanness  in  such  transac¬ 
tions  is  quite  disgusting.  W e  had  a  fair  specimen  of  it.  It 
requires  no  small  nerve  and  determination  to  deal  with  them 
in  their  own  fastnesses.  And  besides,  I  believe  they  fancy 
that  all  Europeans,  especially  Englishmen,  are  as  wealthy 
as  Nabobs. 

At  the  time  of  our  arrival  at  Akabah,  there  was  a  large 
assemblage  of  Sheikhs  and  inferior  Arabs,  especially  of  the 

*  1  Kings,  ix.  26.  What  a  humbling  picture  does  this  very  spot  present, 
of  the  perishableness  of  human  enterprizes  and  temporal  interests.  If  one 
could  minutely  trace  out  the  changes  which  it  has  undergone  since  the 
day  when  Israel  encamped  on  it  in  their  wanderings  (Numb,  xxxiii.  35), 
we  should  gaze  on  it  with  a  solemn  and  melancholy  interest. 

Ezion-geber  and  Elath  are  mentioned  together  in  Scripture  narrative. 
The  former  appears  to  have  been  the  naval  station,  and  was  certainly  situ¬ 
ate  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Red  Sea,  called  the  Elanitic  Gulph,  from 
L Hath,  Ailali ,  Ala ,  and  Alana,  which  stood  at  the  head.  The  latter  was, 
doubtless,  the  proper  entrepot  of  commercial  enterprise.  On  the  conquest 
of  Edom  by  David,  he  took  possession  of  this  place,  and  there  established 
a  trade  to  all  parts  of  the  then  known  world.  Solomon  certainly  built 
his  ships  here,  and  sent  them  to  Ophir.  It  continued  in  possession  of  the 
Israelites  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  until,  in  the  reign  of  Jorum, 
it  was  recovered  by  the  Edomites,  from  whom  it  was  retaken  by  Azariah. 
Under  Ahaz,  it  was  captured  by  Resin,  the  Syrian.  Jerome  says  it  was 
the  first  port  from  India  to  Egypt.  It  became  subject  to  the  Ptolemies  af¬ 
ter  the  death  of  Alexander  the  Great;  and  in  the  time  of  Jerome,  the  tenth 
Roman  legion  was  stationed  in  it.  (See  2  Sam.  viii.  14 ;  2  Chron.  viii.  1" 
18;  2  Kings  viii.  20,  xiv.  22,  xvi.  6.) 


188 


ENCAMPMENT  AT  AKABAH. 


tribes  of  Edom,  gathered  together  for  the  purpose  of  attempt¬ 
ing  some  adjustment  of  questions  which  had  been  long  pend 
ing,  such  as  that  between  the  Sinaite  tribes  and  the  Mezzeni, 
which  cost  Suleiman  his  life.  Each  tribe  was  eagerly  assert¬ 
ing  its  right  against  Sheikh  Hussein  ;  who,  with  his  powerful 
tribe  of  Aloeens,  had  long  monopolized  the  route  through 
Petra  to  Hebron.  In  such  a  state  of  things,  we  felt  it  would 
be  unsafe  to  attempt  a  passage  in  that  direction,  much  as  we 
desired  it.  The  settlement  of  all  matters  in  dispute  between 
the  tribes,  could  alone  render  it  practicable. 

On  the  morning  after  our  arrival  (June  1st),  the  scene 
which  presented  itself  at  the  tent  door  was  very  charming. 
The  tall  palm  trees  above  us  formed  a  delightful  shade  ; 
while  full  in  front  lay  the  Elanitic  gulph,  with  its  deep  blue 
waters  sparkling  in  the  early  sunlight,  and  rippling  to  its 
margin,  within  a  few  yards  of  us.  On  the  opposite  side,  rose 
up  the  north-eastern  termination  of  Gebel  el  Till — rose-tinted, 
massive,  yet  graceful ;  and  far  off  to  the  left,  the  peninsular 
country  of  Nuweibia;  while  on  the  right  lay  Wadey  el 
Arabah,  stretching  upwards  to  Mount  Hor,  and  onward  to¬ 
wards  the  Dead  Sea.  On  the  smooth  waters  of  the  gulph 
was  to  be  seen  here  and  there  a  fisherman,  astride  on  the 
trunk  of  a  palm  tree  for  a  boat,  plying  the  only  occupation  of 
the  resident  Arabs  while  scores  of  little  sunburnt  children 
were  sporting  in  the  shallow  waters  at  the  margin,  dashing 
along  and  shouting  with  wild  joy.  Round  and  about  our  en¬ 
campment  were  to  be  seen  and  heard  noisy  clamorous  parties 
of  various  tribes,  squatting  in  circles,  and  gazing  with  earnest 
curiosity  upon  us — the  newly  arrived  European  travellers. 
It  was  a  strange  scene. 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  we  received  a  visit  from 
Sheikh  Hussein,  who  had  been  informed  of  our  desire  to  pass 
through  Edom  to  Hebron.  These  Sheikhs  speak  of  their 

*  There  are  several  varieties  of  excellent  fish  to  be  found  in  the  Red 
Sea,  one  of  which,  called  by  the  Arabs  Nazari  (i.  e.  the  Christian ),  is  pe¬ 
culiarly  delicious.  It  grows  to  a  large  size — is  of  a  fine  crimson  and  ver¬ 
milion  color,  and  its  flesh  something  like  that  of  the  turbot.  We  had  a 
fine  specimen  of  it  on  our  table. 


SHIiIKH  HUSSEIN. 


189 


“kingdoms,”  and  assume  a  lofty  bearing.  Was  Sheikh  Huse- 
sein  a  descendant  of  the  “  Dukes  of  Edom  ?”  In  appearance, 
he  might,  at  all  events,  be  deemed  a  most  striking  and  pictu¬ 
resque  representative.  Though  five  shillings,  English,  would 
probably  have  been  a  fair  price  for  the  purchase  of  every  rag 
upon  his  back,  yet  he  exhibited  a  calm  stateliness  of  manner, 
quite  apart  from  formality  or  stiffness,  which  made  one  forget 
every  thing  else  but  his  thin,  expressive,  sunburnt  counte¬ 
nance,  lighted  up  by  the  quickest  and  most  sparkling  eyes  I 
ever  beheld.  Every  action  was  graceful,  every  glance  full  of 
meaning.  He  is  of  moderate  height — thin  and  wiry  ;  and,  I 
suppose,  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age  ;  but  with  all  the 
elasticity  of  youth.  We  exchanged  the  usual  salutation  as  he 
entered  the  tent,  and  seated  himself  between  us.  Pipes  and 
coffee  were  immediately  served,  as  the  preliminary  to  all 
Arab  conferences.  Sheikh  Hussein  is  a  fearfully  profuse 
smoker. 

Having  previously  acquired  some  knowledge  of  his  charac¬ 
ter,  we  were  prepared  for  a  scene.  He  is  a  greedy,  avaricious, 
and  subtle  man.  Our  conference  was  soon  opened,  and  he 
boldly  demanded  of  us  ten  thousand  piastres  (about  one  hun 
dred  pounds,  English),  as  the  price  of  a  suitable  escort  and 
safe  conduct  through  Edom  to  Hebron.  We  replied,  we  were 
not  prepared  to  give  him  any  thing  like  that  sum  ;  that  we 
knew  he  had  conveyed  other  Englishmen,  and  a  nobleman, 
too  (Lord  Lindsay),  for  much  less ;  and  that  on  making  pecu¬ 
niary  provisions  for  our  Desert-route,  we  had  calculated  ac¬ 
cordingly.  Hussein  declared  that  he  would  not  have  demand¬ 
ed  so  much,  but  for  certain  arrangements  he  had  made  with 
other  tribes,  which  would  oblige  him  to  divide  among  many 
whatever  he  should  receive  ;  and  that  in  consequence  of  such 
arrangements,  travellers  would  be  no  longer  exposed  to  the 
dangers  and  difficulties  with  other  tribes  that  they  had  been  ; 
and  hinted  that  this  increased  facility  was  something  worth 
paying  for.  We  replied,  we  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  ar 
rangements  between  him  and  other  tribes;  that  we  were  not 
bound,  or  even  over  anxious  to  go  by  way  of  Petra  ;  that  we 


190 


SHEIKH  HUSSEIN. 


were  quite  ready  to  return  with  our  Beni  Saids  to  Suez,  and 
to  proceed  from  thence  by  way  of  Gaza,  or  Nakhl ;  and  that 
they  were  awaiting  our  determination.  We  said  we  would 
not  submit  to  an  exorbitant  demand,  but  were  willing  to  give 
him  four  thousand  five  hundred  piastres,  and  a  suitable  back- 
sheech  at  Hebron,  if  he  fulfilled  his  engagements  to  our  sat¬ 
isfaction.  He  refused  the  offer,  and  our  conference  broke  up. 
But  there  are  always  many  words  to  an  Arab  bargain.  We 
concluded  that  we  should  see  Hussein  again. 

Soon  after  he  had  left  us,  we  received  a  visit  of  ceremony 
from  the  governor  of  the  fortress,  attended  by  one  of  his 
satellites,  both  of  them  thorough  Turks,  and  both  equally 
mean  and  insignificant  in  manners  and  appearance.  Scarcely 
were  they  seated  in  the  tent,  when  a  fine,  venerable  person¬ 
age,  a  Sheikh  of  the  Amram  tribe,  with  a  white,  flowing 
beard,  and  arrayed  in  his  full  Desert  attire,  presented  himself 
as  our  guest,  and  very  unceremoniously  took  his  seat,  while 
the  door  of  the  tent  was  surrounded  by  a  wild  set  of  hangers- 
on,  of  various  tribes,  who  squatted  in  the  dust,  and  intently 
gazed  on  all  that  was  passing,  exchanging  sundry  remarks 
with  each  other — indicating,  as  most  Arabs  do,  a  prying  curi¬ 
osity.  Pipes  and  coffee  were  forthwith  served  to  our  new 
friends ;  and  we  soon  found  that  our  hospitality  was  bidding 
fair  to  keep  up  a  constant  succession  of  visitors,  as  long  as  our 
stores  of  coffee  and  tobacco  lasted.  I  had  given  relief  to  the 
inflamed  eye  of  one  of  our  own  people,  the  news  of  which 
was  soon  spread  abroad ;  and  I  began  to  fear  I  should  be  call¬ 
ed  upon  to  try  my  skill  upon  all  the  eyes  in  Akabah.  The 
Arabs  are  vastly  fond  of  medicine,  and  such  like  things.  One, 
whose  sight  was  quite  gone,  was  led  up  to  the  tent,  and,  beg¬ 
ging  me  to  cure  him,  appeared  quite  surprised  and  disappoint¬ 
ed  when  I  said  it  was  beyond  my  skill. 

We  saw  no  more  of  Sheikh  Hussein  during  the  day  ;  and 
were  somewhat  annoyed  at  learning,  that  instead  of  arrange¬ 
ments  having  been  positively  made,  as  he  had  alleged,  be¬ 
tween  him  and  other  tribes,  in  reference  to  the  conducting 
of  travellers — there  was  then  a  'parliament  of  Sheikhs  actual- 


StiEIKH  HUSSEIN. 


191 


ly  assembled  for  the  adjustment  of  the  still  open  question  ; 
and  certainly,  during  all  this  and  the  next  day,  the  little  world 
of  Akabah  rang  with  the  clamorous  discussions  of  these 
mighty  men  of  the  wilderness ;  and  we  felt  that  till  they  had 
fairly  come  to  an  understanding,  it  would  be  most  indiscreet 
in  us,  to  attempt  the  route  by  Petra.  We  had  already  seen 
enough  of  Desert-law  to  make  us  very  circumspect  on  this 
subject. 

On  the  third  day,  while  our  Sinaite  Arabs  were  becoming 
anxious  to  return  to  their  tents,  Sheikh  Hussein  again  made 
his  appearance,  accompanied  by  his  son  Mahommed,  a  fine 
young  Bedawee,  preparing,  with  no  small  precocity,  to  follow 
in  the  steps  of  his  father.  I  inquired  of  him  his  age  ;  11  Allah 
knows.”  said  he,  “  I  do  not.1’  I  suppose  the  vagrant  habits 
of  Bedaween  life  beget  a  total  indifference  to  such  matters. 
Mahommed  and  his  father  would  have  made  a  fine  study  for 
a  painter,  as  they  squatted  together  with  all  the  wildness  of 
the  Desert  visible  in  them.  The  behavior  of  Hussein  was 
quite  as  free  from  embarrassment  on  renewing  the  negocia- 
tion,  as  if  we  had  not,  on  the  former  occasion,  so  decidedly 
checked  his  rapacity.  He  assured  us  that  every  thing  was 
now  really  adjusted  between  him  and  the  rest  of  the  assem¬ 
bled  Sheikhs,  and  that  the  journey  might  be  taken  with  per¬ 
fect  safety — that  he  was  quite  able  to  command  our  safe  con¬ 
duct.  We  looked  suspicious,  as  he  had  before  misinformed 
us;  and  besides  we  well  knew*that  he  only  wanted  our 
money,  and  just  as  much  of  it  as  he  could  squeeze  out  of  us. 
Our  desire  to  pass  through  Edom  had  certainly  undergone 
some  diminution  since  we  had  arrived  at  Akabah  ;  and  we 
knew  that  another  route  to  Hebron  was  open  to  us,  by  retain¬ 
ing  our  Sinaite  Arabs ;  so  we  replied,  that  if  he  would  escort 
us  for  such  a  remuneration  as  he  had  been  content  with  from 
other  Englishmen,  under  similar  circumstances,  we  were 
willing  to  put  ourselves  under  his  care.  I  reduced  our  pro¬ 
posals  to  writing — stipulating  for  safe  conduct,  for  four  thou¬ 
sand  five  hundred  piastres,  and  five  hundred  more  as  back- 
sheech  on  reaching  Hebron,  together  with  sundry  other 


192 


FINAL  ARRANGEMENTS. 


matters  as  to  the  time  we  should  be  allowed  to  stay,  without 
molestation,  among1  the  remains  of  Petra,  &c.  This  docu¬ 
ment  was  read  over  and  explained  to  him  in  Arabic,  and  he 
appeared  to  make  no  strong  objection  to  its  contents;  and  said 
he  would  rather  conduct  us  at  a  loss  to  himself,  than  that  we 
should  return  with  our  Beni  Saids.  We  bade  him  consider 
the  matter  fully,  and  see  us  again  at  sunset.  He  returned 
some  time  after  the  hour  appointed,  saying  he  must  have 
eight  thousand  piastres,  and  five  hundred  more  as  backsheech  j 
and  hinted  something  about  a  new  dress — a  not  unusual 
present  from  travellers  to  their  Sheikhs.  We  simply  replied, 
we  had  not  so  much  money  with  us,  nor  could  we  have,  till 
we  should  reach  Jerusalem.  We  now  distinctly  informed 
him  that  the  negociation  was  at  an  end,  and  that  we  should 
next  day  enter  upon  another  route  with  our  Beni  Saids. 
Hussein  evinced  neither  anger  nor  disappointment,  further 
than  that  he  rose  up  with  all  imaginable  stateliness,  and  de¬ 
parted  without  a  salaam. 

The  die  being  now  cast,  we  relinquished  all  hope  of  visit¬ 
ing  Petra — gave  directions  for  our  caravan  to  be  put  in 
marching  order  for  the  following  morning,  and  made  an 
agreement  with  Jumar,  who  was  then  to  act  as  the  represen¬ 
tative  of  poor  Suleiman,  for  fourteen  camels,  at  two  hundred 
piastres  for  each.  This  was  to  include  every  thing,  except 
such  backsheech  as  we  might  be  disposed  to  give  on  reaching 
Dhaheriyeh,  on  the  borders  of  Canaan,  beyond  which,  he  and 
his  tribe  had  not  power  to  escort  us.  So  faithfully  had  our 
Bedaween  served  us  during  our  former  routes,  that  I  felt  no 
small  satisfaction  while  looking  forward  to  a  third,  under  the 
escort  of  men  who  had  attached  themselves  to  us,  and  shared 
our  dangers  and  difficulties. 

It  was  on  the  “  great  and  terrible  wilderness”  of  Paran,  that 
we  were  preparing  to  enter,  with  a  probability  of  spending 
ten  or  eleven  days  in  threading  .our  way  through  its  wilds 
and  fastnesses.  We  had  already  been  for  twenty -two  days 
in  the  wilderness  of  Shur  or  Etham,*  and  were  pretty  well 

*  Exodus  xv.  22.  Numbers  xxxiii  8.  The  wilderness  of  Shur  seema 


PANIC. 


193 


familiarized  with  all  that  appertains  to  Desert-life  and  habits. 
We  reinforced  our  store  of  provisions,  rice,  flour,  coffee,  &c. 
from  the  fortress  of  Akabah  ;  paid  our  return  visit  of  cere¬ 
mony  to  the  governor,  and  awaited  the  return  of  the  morning 
light  to  commence  our  march. 

Knowing  that  Sheikh  Hussein  and  his  Aloeens  were  in 
full  force  at  Akabah,  and  that  they  could  not  but  be  chagrined 
at  our  resolving  to  turn  our  backs  upon  them  and  their  coun¬ 
try,  I  confess  I  was  not  without  apprehension  that  some  ruse 
might  be  put  in  practice  to  intimidate  us,  or  some  insurmount¬ 
able  hinderance  thrown  in  the  way  of  our  progress  by 
another  route.  I  even  thought  it  possible  that  the  rest  of  the 
Sheikhs,  with  whom  Hussein  had  been  so  long  wrangling, 
might  on  such  an  occasion  coalesce  with  him,  and  keep  us  in 
their  power,  so  as  to  attempt  at  forcing  the  terms  of  Hussein 
upon  us.  During  the  afternoon,  a  rumor  ran  like  lightning 
through  the  encampment,  that  the  Aloeens  were  stealing  our 
camels  (which  were  feeding  among  the  low  bushes),  so  as  to 
cut  off  our  means  of  departure.  The  whole  of  Akabah  was 
in  commotion.  Arabs  were  seen  wildly  mounting  and  dash¬ 
ing  away  at  full  speed,  some  without  their  turbans,  and  with 
the  long  locks  of  hair  left  at  the  top  of  their  shaven  heads, 
streaming  in  the  wind — grasping  their  matchlock  guns  in 
their  extended  right  hands,  as  if  preparing  for  a  gramd  melee, 
and  shouting  as  it  were  in  a  loud  war-cry.  All  this  certainly 
looked  very  ominous ;  and  it  was  no  very  pleasant  thing  to 
know,  that  personally  we  were  without  the  slightest  means  of 
defence,  against  a  party  so  strong  and  savage  as  the  Aloeens, 
in  the  event  of  their  resolving  to  be  troublesome.  In  the  midst 
of  this  strange  scene,  I  was  filled  with  apprehension  at  hearing 
shot  after  shot  fired  in  the  direction  towards  which  the  gene- 

to  comprehend  all  the  western  part  of  Arabia  Petrsea.  If  there  was  any 
difference  between  the  wilderness  of  Shur  and  that  of  Etham,  it  seems  to 
have  been  only  this,  that  they  differed  one  from  the  other,  as  a  part  from 
its  whole.  As  Shur  seems  to  have  been  the  general  name  of  all  that  part  of 
Arabia  Petraea  that  lay  next  to  Egypt,  so  by  the  wilderness  of  Shur,  was 
probably  denoted  all  the  Desert  tract  thereof;  whereas  only  part  of  thig 
Desert  tract,  namely,  so  much  as  lay  nearest  to  Etham,  was  peculiarly 
called  the  wilderness  of  Etham. 

17 


194 


TERMINATION  OF  SOJOURN  AT  AKABAH. 


ral  confluence  of  Arabs  had  been.  But  at  length  all  was 
silent  again ;  scarcely  a  voice  was  to  be  heard.  The  Arabs 
were  quietly  returning.  The  rumor  was,  after  all,  un 
founded ;  and  the  gun-shots  had  been  fired  at  a  mark  by  a 
few  Turkish  soldiers  belonging  to  the  fortress,  and  some  of 
the  Arabs  who  had  nothing  better  to  do. 

A  quiet,  calm,  lovely  night  terminated  our  sojourn  at 
Akabah.  We  went  to  our  repose  in  that  wild  spot,  with  our 
hearts  resting  on  the  renewed  mercies  of  God,  and  our  hopes 
looking  forth  o  the  wilderness  of  Paran. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  DESERT; 


FROM  AKABAII  TO  DHAHERIYEH. 


Wilderness  of  Paran— Departure  from  Akabah — Plain  of  Darfurekh — Strangers— 
The  Haiwat  Tribe — Wadey  el  Mushehhem — “The  Way  of  Mount  Seir” — Wadey 
el  G’ssaim — Adventure  with  the  Tiyahah  Tribe — Adjustment  of  Differences — 
Ebodah — 'Abdeh — Wadey  er  Ruhaibeh — Rehoboth — Wadey  el  Khaluseh — Elusa 
— The  Retem — The  Borders  of  Canaan — Bir-es-seba — Beersheba — Dhaheriyeh — 
Agricultural  Pursuits — Dismissal  of  the  Bedaween. 


It  was  in  the  wilderness  of  Paran  that  Ishmael  dwelt,  when 
from  the  days  of  his  youth  he  grew  up  and  became  an  archer  ; 
and  God  was  with  the  lad.#  And  it  was  in  this  u  great  and 
terrible  wilderness,”  also,  that  for  thirty-eightf  of  their  forty 
years,  the  people  of  Israel  wandered.  Hitherto,  we  had 
trodden  much  in  their  footsteps,  and  perhaps  pitched  our 
tents  on  the  very  scenes  of  some  of  their  encampments.  A 
similar  source  of  delightful  satisfaction  awaited  us  in  the 
wilderness  of  Paran.  We  could  not  but  feel  a  deepened 
sense  of  the  reality  of  scripture  narrative  while  journeying 
through  these  venerable  localities.  Indeed,  the  very  habits 
of  oriental  life  made  me  often  feel  as  if  I  were  actually  living 
in  the  bible  period  of  the  world.  I  suppose  the  manners  of 
the  Arabs  have  undergone  little,  if  any,  modification  since 
Ishmael  came  to  dwell  in  Paran.  All  the  world  about  them 
has  undergone  change ;  but  the  descendants  of  Ishmael  are 
unchanged. 

*  Genesis,  xxi.  20,  21 . 

t  Deut.  ii.  14.  The  whole  of  this  part  of  the  Desert  is  callec  by  the  Arabs 
Et  Tih — that  is  “  the  wandering.”  The  name  Et  Tih,  as  applied  to  this 
locality,  is  found  both  in  Edrisa  and  Abulfeda,  who  refer  it  to  the  wander 
iniis  of  the  children  of  Israel. 


196 


WILDERNESS  OF  PARAN. 


The  wilderness  of  Paran  is  generally  understood  to  include 
the  Desert  and  mountainous  space  lying  between  the  wilder¬ 
ness  of  Shur,  westward,  or  towards  Egypt,  and  Mount  Seir,  or 
the  land  of  Edom,  eastward ;  between  the  land  of  Canaan, 
northwards,  and  the  Red  Sea,  southwards ;  and  thus  it  ap¬ 
pears  to  have  comprehended,  really,  the  wilderness  of  Sin  and 
Sinai,  together  with  the  adjoining  tract,  in  which  lay  Kibroth- 
hattaavah  and  Hazeroth.  This  may  be  gathered,  perhaps, 
from  Deut.  i.  19,  where  it  is  said — “When  we  departed  from 
Horeb,  we  went  through  all  that  great  and  terrible  wilderness, 
which  you  saw  by  the  way  of  the  mountain  of  the  Amorites ; 
and  we  came  to  Kadesh-barnea.”  The  wilderness  of  Paran, 
in  the  large  acceptation  of  the  term  above  referred  to,  seems 
clearly  to  be  the  wilderness  mentioned  in  this  passage. 

I  feel  greater  difficulty  in  attempting  to  make  intelligible 
my  route  through  the  wilderness  of  Paran,  than  through  the 
other  parts  of  the  Arabian  Desert  which  I  have  traversed ; 
for  in  the  first  place,  there  is  a  hopeless  discordancy  of  names 
in  most  of  the  maps,  ancient  and  modern,  that  I  have  con¬ 
sulted  ;  and,  moreover,  among  the  Arabs  themselves,  a  similar 
want  of  agreement  is  observable  on  the  same  subject.  And 
what  is  worse  than  all,  many  of  the  ancient  Scripture  names 
of  places  have  been  entirely  obliterated,  and  others  are  trace¬ 
able  with  the  greatest  difficulty  in  an  Arabic  intermixture. 
It  may,  however,  be  sufficient  for  my  present  purpose,  to 
mention  that  our  route  lay  directly  through  the  heart  of  the 
Wilderness  of  Paran ,  proceeding  first  due  west,  then  bearing 
upwards  in  a  north-westerly  direction,  for  full  half  the  way ; 
and  thence,  in  a  north-easterly  course  to  Dhaheriyeh.  As  to 
the  present  names  of  the  various  places  of  our  daily  encamp¬ 
ments,  I  can  only  give  them  according  to  their  sound  as  pro¬ 
nounced  by  the  Arabs.*  This  part  of  the  Arabian  Desert  is 
far  less  visited  by  Europeans  than  others ;  indeed,  it  is  com- 

*  It  is  believed  that  many  of  the  Arabs  purposely  give  false  names  to 
places,  in  order  to  deceive.  It  is  a  prevailing  notion  among  them,  that 
Europeans  visit  their  territories  only  for  the  sake  of  discovering  and  ob¬ 
taining  possession  of  hidden  treasurer,  of  which  they  suppose  there  are 
many. 


DEPARTURE  FROM  AKABAH. 


197 


paratively  unknown,  except  through  the  recent  work  of  Dr. 
Robinson. 

It  was  on  the  fourth  of  June  that  we  recommenced  our 
journey.*  The  early  morning  sun  had  overspread  the  lovely 
gulph  of  Akabah  and  its  mountain  girdle,  with  unspeakable 
brilliancy,  when  we  rose  for  the  purpose  of  getting  our  cara¬ 
van  in  marching  order.  The  usual  adjustments  caused  the 
usual  delays ;  and  it  was  not  until  nearly  eight  o’clock  that 
we  were  fairly  on  our  way. 

Knowing  the  subtlety  of  the  Arab  character,  and  somewhat 
of  their  greediness  of  gain,  I  could  scarcely  repress  the  appre¬ 
hension  that  some  coup  de  main  would  be  attempted  against 
us  by  Sheikh  Hussein  and  his  Aloeens,  and  that  they  would 
not  allow  us  quietly  to  depart.  We  mounted,  however, 
taking  Jumar  as  our  Sheikh,  and  one  of  the  servants — 
leaving  the  rest  of  the  escort  to  follow  with  as  little  delay 
as  possible.  Passing  down  from  our  encampment  to  the 
narrow  shingly  shore  of  the  gulph,  we  could  not  well  avoid 
coming  in  full  view  of  the  encampment  of  the  Aloeens,  from 
which  a  few  shots,  if  judiciously  directed  from  among  the 
palm-clumps,  might  quietly  enough  have  done  great  execu¬ 
tion  upon  us.  We  had,  however,  sufficient  reason  for  be¬ 
lieving  that  Hussein  would  not  rashly  embarrass  or  injure  a 
party  of  so  powerful  a  tribe  as  that  by  which  we  were  escorted, 
or  offer  real  molestation  to  those  under  their  care.  Hussein 
had  too  much  on  his  hands  with  the  adjacent  tribes,  to  render 
it  expedient  for  him  to  be  at  war  with  the  Sinaite  tribes,  as 
he  must  have  been  had  he  intercepted  our  course  by  violence. 
Besides,  he  well  knew  that  if  Europeans  suffered  injury  at 
his  hands  at  Akabah,  there  would  be  a  suspension,  at  least 
for  a  time,  of  all  travelling  through  his  territory ;  so  that  his 
craft  would  be  greatly  endangered.  Apart  from  such  consid¬ 
erations  as  these,  I  cannot  suppose  that  his  Arab  cupidity 
would  have  suffered  us  to  pass  in  safety. 

*  During  our  stay  at  Akabah,  Viscount  Castlereagh  arrived  from  Cairo, 
with  a  large  escort,  and  upwards  of  fifty  camels.  On  his  Lordship’s  invi¬ 
tation,  we  united  our  caravans,  and  went  forth  with  between  sixty  and 
seventy  camels,  and  suitable  escorts,  &c. 

17* 


198 


DEPARTURE  FROM  AKABAH. 


We  continued  along  the  narrow  beach,  having  the  palm- 
groves  of  Akabah  on  our  right.  We  had  net  gone  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  ere  we  saw  the  encampment  of  Hussein, 
and  the  Sheikh  himself,  his  son  Mahommed,  and  a  few  of  his 
tribe  squatting  together,  under  the  low  bushes.  Instead  of 
offering  any  hindrance,  Hussein  rose  as  we  passed,  with  a 
stately  air,  and  gave  us  the  salaam  ;  but  addressed  a  few 
words  to  Jumar,  in  a  sharp,  angry  tone,  the  purport  of  which 
was — “You  have  brought  travellers  to  Akabah,  and  waited 
to  take  them  away  again.  You  have  no  right  to  do  this. 
The  next  time  you  escort  any,  go  back  to  your  tents  imme 
diately,  and  leave  them  here  ;  or — look  to  yourselves.”  Then 
was  a  threat  implied  in  this,  full  bold  enough  to  be  held  out 
to  tribes  so  powerful  as  those  of  Mount  Sinai. 

We  were  soon  joined  by  the  rest  of  the  escort,  and  slowly 
wound  our  way  along  the  head  of  the  gulph,  till  we  reached, 
on  its  western  side,  the  entrance  of  the  Grand  Egyptian  Hadj 
route,  commencing  in  a  steep  defile,  through  a  vast  mass  of 
mountain,  called  Gebel  Mahamar.*  It  was  by  this  pass  that 
Ibrahim  Pasha  returned  from  his  Syrian  expedition  ;  and,  in 
many  parts,  we  found  it  literally  strewed  with  the  carcases  of 
his  camels,  horses,  and  mules.  Sometimes  the  stench  of  them 
was  quite  intolerable.  On  gaining  the  heights  of  Gebel 
Mahamar,  we  commanded  a  superb  view  of  the  gulph  of 
Akabah,  stretching  far  off  to  the  south,  and  lying  like  a  vast 
purple  amethyst  set  in  a  rich  incrustation  of  Mosaic  work — 
for  such  the  surrounding  mountains  appeared  while  bathed  in 
the  light  of  the  morning  sun.  Northward,  extended  Wadey 
Arabah — the  usual  route  for  Petra,  by  way  of  Mount  Hor, 
which  most  travellers  have  believed  to  be  the  ancient  bed  of 
the  River  Jordan,  through  which  it  was  thought  to  have 
joined  the  gulph  of  Akabah,  prior  to  the  destruction  of  the 
cities  of  the  plain,  and  the  formation  of  the  saline  deposit  of 
the  Read. Sea,  from  which  there  is  now  no  exit.f  But,  how- 

*  In  some  maps  it  is  called  “  En  Nukb,”  and  “  Kaa.  on  Nukb.” 

t  This  opinion  has  been  generally  entertained  till  recently  ;  but  it  now 
seems  to  admit  of  a  question.  Certainly  there  is  a  very  striking  resem¬ 
blance  between  the  general  features  of  so  much  of  Wadey  Arabah  as  I 


PLAIN  OF  DARFUREKH. 


199 


ever  this  might  have  been,  it  was  a  delightful  thought  that 
few  changes  could  have  occurred  in  the  genera_  aspect  of  this 
scene,  since  Israel  in  their  wanderings  looked  down  upon  it 
as  we  looked,  when  they  passed  by  from  their  brethren  the 
children  of  Esau,  who  dwelt  in  Seir,  through  the  way  of  the 
plain  from  Elath,  and  from  Ezion-geber,  and  turned,  and 
passed  by  the  way  of  the  wilderness  of  Moab.#  It  is  this 
which  imparts  so  peculiar  an  interest  to  these  wild  scenes.  If 
I  gaze  on  the  remains  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  or  survey 
the  fragments  of  Egypt’s  mysterious  majesty,  I  can  behold  hut 
little  as  it  was  seen  in  the  palmy  days  of  those  wondrous 
abodes  of  might  and  grandeur ;  but  I  can  see  the  wilderness 
as  Israel  saw  it,  though  the  storms  and  tempests  of  centuries 
upon  centuries  have  gathered  and  broken  over  its  surface. 
There  is  an  idea  of  permanence  in  the  very  aspect  of  the  wil¬ 
derness,  which  cannot  exist  where  the  transmuting  and  trans¬ 
forming  hand  of  man  has  motive  for  its  exercise.  Rome, 
Greece,  Egypt,  have  been  susceptible  of  change  ;  and  they 
have  been  changed.  They  will  continue  to  change.  But  the 
wilderness  is  too  vast  for  the  grasp  of  man.  Rome,  indeed, 
has  left  the  print  of  her  mighty  foot  even  there,  and  it  will 
abide ;  but  still  the  Desert  is  the  same. 

Continuing  our  ascent  till  twelve  o’clock,  we  halted  amidst 
mountains  remarkable  not  only  for  the  hold  gracefulness  of 
their  outline,  but  also  for  the  variety  of  rich  coloring  which 
they  presented — dark  olive,  rich  brown,  umber,  rose-tint — all 
blended  in  the  loveliest  harmony  of  effect.  Sometimes  by 
easy  and  gradual,  and  then  by  steep  and  difficult  ascents,  we 
reached,  by  six  o’clock  in  the  evening,  the  borders  of  the  far- 
stretching  plain  of  Darfurekh,  skirted  at  its  extremities  by 
hilly  undulations,  seen  in  beautiful  outline  upon  the  unclouded 
sky.  The  surface  of  the  plain  is  covered  over,  in  all  parts,  by 
loose  fragments  of  hard  stone,  almost  as  black  as  coal,  and  as 
if  broken  up  with  a  hammer  for  the  purpose  of  forming  a 
macadamized  road.  We  encamped  for  the  night,  upon  a  spot 

could  descry,  and  those  of  the  valley  of  the  Jcrdan,  I  shall  touch  mor« 
fully  on  this  subject  in  another  place. 

*  Deut.  ii.  8. 


200 


STRANGERS - THE  ILaIWAT  TRIBE. 


bearing  traces  of  having  been  the  habitual  halting  place  of 
the  great  caravans  to  Mecca.  There  lay  the  remaining  ashes 
of  their  bivouac  fires,  and  the  circles  formed  by  the  circum¬ 
ference  of  their  tents. 

If  the  quick  eye  of  an  Arab  descries  in  the  distance  the 
slow  step  of  the  camel,  or  the  gleaming  of  a  spear-head,  or  the 
uplifted  barrel  of  a  matchlock,  he  puts  himself  in  readiness  to 
meet  a  foe,  or  a  victim  ;  or  to  embrace  a  friend,  and  salute  him 
with  a  fraternal  kiss.  On  the  open  plains  of  the  Desert,  ap¬ 
proaching  objects  are  discernible  at  a  great  distance.  Just  as 
the  sun  was  going  down,  we  were  all  put  on  the  qui  vive,  by 
the  sudden  appearance  of  three  camels,  mounted,  and  advan¬ 
cing  by  the  way  we  had  come,  towards  the  place  of  our  en¬ 
campment.  Our  first  persuasion  was,  that  it  must  be  Sheikh 
Hussein,  coming  to  us  with  a  hope  of  making  terms,  and  of 
inducing  us  to  retrace  our  steps  towards  Petra.  They  soon 
approached  near  enough  for  us  to  notice  that  one  of  the  camels 
was  white  ;  and  we  knew  that  Hussein’s  son  Mahommed  was 
wont  to  ride  a  white  camel.  If  it  were  Hussein  and  Mahom¬ 
med,  we  felt  persuaded  that  they  had  not  come  alone,  but  that 
somewhere  in  the  rear,  would  by  and  by  be  seen  a  stout 
troop  of  followers.  It  was  an  exciting  moment.  The  stran¬ 
gers  at  length  reached  our  encampment,  dismounted,  and  were 
soon  received,  certainly  not  as  foes — by  a  circle  seated  round 
one  of  the  evening  fires.  They  were  not  Aloeens,  but  of  the 
Haiwat  tribe;  and  one  of  them  was  a  Sheikh.  Part  of  our 
route  lay  through  the  territory  of  this  tribe. 

On  the  following  morning  at  half-past  five,  just  as  we  were 
making  preparations  for  the  march,  it  appeared  that  the  Sheikh 
had  claimed  for  his  tribe,  like  the  Mezzeni,  a  right  to  supply 
camels,  at  a  price  to  be  agreed  on  ;  and,  after  much  wrangling, 
as  usual,  it  seemed  as  if  difficulties  would  arise.  Past  expe¬ 
rience  had  taught  us  anxiety  on  this  subject — a  subject  with 
which  all  parts  of  the  Desert  are  becoming  rife.  Where  the 
law  of  the  sword  prevails,  matters  such  as  these  will  hardly 
oe  adjusted  without  much  bloodshed.  And  till  they  are 
thoroughly  disposed  of,  a  journey  through  the  Desert,  how 


THE  HAIWAT  TRIBE. 


201 


ever  safely  it  may  be  made  in  regard  to  the  persons  and  pro' 
perty  of  travellers,  must  needs  be  attended  with  sad  and  vexa¬ 
tious  annoyance. 

It  appeared  that  nothing  was  actually  arranged  between  our 
Bedaween  and  the  Haiwat  Sheikh  when  we  recommenced 
our  march.  There  was  much  loud  talking,  and  evident  dis- 
quietude  in  the  caravan.  We  therefore  resolved  to  force  eve¬ 
rything  to  a  point,  at  the  noontide  halting  time  ;  and  in  this  we 
succeeded,  having  expressed  our  determination  not  to  proceed 
another  step  until  all  questions  were  disposed  of.  It  seemed 
to  be  agreed,  that  our  Haiwat  friends  should  join  our  escort 
and  give  us  safe  conduct  through  their  territory,  upon  terms 
of  remuneration  which  our  people  were  to  meet.  The  Hai- 
wat  Sheikh,  though  barefoot,  and  clothed  in  a  faded  keffieh 
and  a  few  other  gaudy  colored  rags,  was  one  of  the  most 
graceful  persons  I  ever  beheld.  His  countenance  was  bland, 
and  extremely  versatile  in  its  expression — his  voice  gentle  and 
silvery.  His  every  action  formed  a  picture — but  the  rogue 
was  greedy  of  gain.  When  Lord  Castlereagh  good-natured¬ 
ly  received  him  and  others  into  his  tent,  for  the  purpose  of 
settling  disputes  in  the  presence  of  us  all,  he  seated  himself 
with  the  easy  self-possession  of  a  noble  among  nobles,  and 
talked  of  his  “  kingdom.”  During  the  day,  our  route  lay 
across  the  plain  of  Darfurekh  ;  and  at  night  we  encamped  in 
Wadey  el  Tumath. 

During  this  day’s  journey,  the  camel  which  I  had  ridden 
throughout  the  past  journey,  became  slightly  lame ;  and  as 
I  supposed  that  an  Arab  would  manage  better  with  him  than 
I  could,  I  thankfully  accepted  Jumar’s  offer  of  poor  Suleiman’s 
noble  beast,  which  carried  me  during  the  rest  of  the  way. 
Often  and  often  I  called  to  mind,  the  manner,  voice,  figure, 
and  joyous  spirits  of  our  poor  Sheikh,  whose  loss  in  the  cara¬ 
van  was  very  sensibly  felt.  He  kept  all  in  such  admirable 
marching  trim;  and  his  loud  u  yellah  vellah1’  set  everybody  in 
motion.  He,  poor  fellow,  was  in  his  lonely  Desert-grave.  We 
were  the  objects  of  God’s  wondrous  mercy. 

I  feel  it  difficult — as  I  have  before  intimated — to  convey  to 


202  WADEY  EL  MUSHEHHEM — “  THE  WAY  OF  MOUNT  SEIR.” 

an  European  mind  an  idea  of  the  impressions  left  upon  my 
own,  by  a  Desert-route.  Its  loneliness  amidst  numbers — its 
frequent  sameness — its  hoary  antiquity — the  dreaminess  of  the 
ordinary  pace  of  the  camels — the  absence  of  all  human  habi¬ 
tations — the  sense  of  vast  distance  from  the  great  world  and 
its  civilization — the  fewness  of  incidents — the  melancholy 
chanting  of  the  Arabs  towards  sunset — the  wild,  gipsey-like 
appearance  of  the  bivouac — all  combine  to  form  a  picture  of 
sensations  (if  I  may  be  allowed  such  an  expression),  not  easily 
obliterated  by  time.  I  feel  it  all,  while  now  writing,  with  a 
keenly  excited  recollection. 

On  the  third  day,  our  way  lay  through  Wadey  el  Musheh- 
hem,  by  easy  passes  between  sandstone-rocks,  the  structure 
of  which,  in  some  parts,  resembles  architectural  remains — in 
the  form  of  citadels  and  towers  ;  and  sometimes  conveys  an 
idea  of  the  graduated  seats  of  a  vast  amphitheatre.  At  other 
parts  they  were  extremely  white  and  chalky,  and  appeared  to 
have  been  washed,  and  almost  polished  as  if  with  mechanical 
smoothness,  by  the  torrents  of  many  a  thousand  years,  whose 
evident  bed  gave  the  line  of  our  march.  Finding  a  deposit 
of  rain  water,  fit  for  the  camels,  and  not  altogether  intolerable 
for  ourselves,  we  encamped  at  a  rather  earlier  hour  than  usu¬ 
al  ;  for  water  in  the  Desert  is  too  much  prized  to  be  know 
ingly  passed  by. 

For  two  nights  past  we  had  felt  it  exceedingly  cold  for  such 
a  climate ;  and,  indeed,  in  the  morning  we  found  our  clothes 
and  linen  damp  with  the  night-dew — a  rather  unusual  cir¬ 
cumstance  at  this  season  of  the  year. 

Our  fourth  day’s  journey,  from  Wadey  el  Mushehhem 
through  Wadey  el  Kureiyeh,  which  cost  us  ten  hours  of 
fatiguing  and  dreary  travelling,  quite  filled  my  mind  with  an 
idea  of  “the  great  and  terrible  wilderness.”  We  were  in  the 
direction  of  “the  way  of  Mount  Seir,”#  which  lay  directly 
from  Mount  Horeb,  across  the  wilderness  of  Paran,  in  a 
north-easterly  direction  ;  from  whence  Moses  sent  forth  to  spy 
out  the  land  of  Canaan. f  During  a  great  part  of  the  day,  we 

*  Deut.  i.  2.  t  Numb.  xiii.  3 — 29. 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  TIYAHAH  TRIBE. 


203 


were  harassed  by  drifting-  sands ;  and  when,  at  noon,  we  lay 
down  for  rest,  we  awoke  almost  covered  by  accumulations 
which  had  been  driven  under  the  edge  of  the  tent.  The 
night  was  boisterous — so  much  as  to  jeopardize  our  encamp¬ 
ment  ;  but  we  weathered  it ;  and  after  upwards  of  nine  hours’ 
wearisome  toil  over  sandy  plains  during  the  next  day,  we  en¬ 
camped  soon  after  sunset,  in  a  lovely  spot  called  Wadey  el 
G’ssaim.*  It  is  a  splendid  amphitheatre  of  beautifully  out¬ 
lined  and  tinted  hills,  the  colors  of  which  were  strikingly 
brought  out  by  the  rich  beams  of  the  setting  sun.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  ever  felt  the  effect  of  color  more  than  I  did  on 
this  occasion.  Every  object  in  the  caravan — the  camels — 
Arabs,  &c. — all  were  bathed  in  the  gorgeous  light,  as  we 
gathered  round  the  wells  which  supplied  refreshment  for  the 
beasts. 

The  next  day  was  an  eventful  one.  On  our  arrival  at 
Wadey  el  G’ssaim,  on  the  preceding  evening,  a  rumor  ran 
through  the  encampment,  that  the  Tiyahah  tribe,  into  whose 
territory  we  had  then  just  entered,  and  who  are  numerous  and 
powerful,  claimed  the  exclusive  right  to  conduct  travellers 
through  their  own  country  towards  Dhaheriyeh,  and  intended 
to  enforce  their  claim  by  compelling  our  escort  to  return,  and 
by  supplying  us,  on  their  own  terms,  with  camels  belonging 
to  their  tribe.  We  gave  little  heed  to  this — believing  that 
any  little  difficulty  that  might  arise,  would  be  easily  adjusted; 
the  more  especially  as  there  was  no  actual  feud,  or  “  blood” f 
between  the  Sinaite  and  Tiyahah  tribes.  A  Sheikh  of  the 
latter  tribe  had  accompanied  us  from  Akabah,  and  given  us 
full  assurance  of  safety ;  but  it  afterwards  appeared  that  there 
are  two  divisions  of  the  tribe — that  he  presided  over  the  more 
distant  division,  and  had  no  authority  over  that  on  whose  ter¬ 
ritory  we  had  entered. 

In  the  morning,  soon  after  daybreak,  the  latter  came  down 

*  Or,  “  Wadey  Es-Ain.” 

t  If  an  Arab  of  one  tribe  happens  to  kill  one  of  another  tribe — there  is 
said  to  be  “  blood”  between  the  tribes.  Blood  is  to  be  repaid  only  by  blood ; 
except  death  is  caused  by  accident,  in  which  case  the  penalty  is  commuted 
for  sheep,  or  camels.  This  illustrates  Exodus  xxi.  13.  Numbers  xxxv. 
9,  &c.  Dent.  xix.  4,  &c.  Joshua  xx.  1,  &o. 


204 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  TIYAHAH  TRIBE. 


upon  us  in  a  large  body — perhaps  about  one  hundred  strong, 
and  as  wild  and  ferocious  a  set  of  savages  as  one  would  wish 
to  meet  in  the  Desert — armed  to  the  teeth  with  their  long 
matchlock  guns,  and  the  other  usual  weapons.  Hearing  a 
stir  in  the  encampment,  we  rose  and  looked  out,  and  were 
rather  startled  at  seeing  one  division  of  them  prepared  to  dis¬ 
cuss  the  question  with  our  people,  while  the  other  occupied 
the  brow  of  a  steep  rock,  commanding  every  turn  of  the  pass 
by  which  we  should  have  to  proceed,  with  their  guns  ready, 
and  their  matches  actually  burning  and  prepared  for  an 
attack,  in  the  event  of  our  attempting  to  march. 

The  discussion  proceeded  with  noisy  violence  till  about 
eight  o’clock,  during  all  which  time  we  were  in  the  power  of 
these  vexatious  visitors.  We  and  our  servants  kept  aloof  as 
much  as  possible,  and  maintained  an  air  of  calm  and  fearless 
indifference  to  the  whole  scene.  While  the  hopeless  wran¬ 
gling  proceeded,  three  shots  were  fired  from  the  brow  of  the 
rock  occupied  by  one  division,  but  whether  as  a  signal  for 
others  of  their  tribe  to  join  them,  or  for  the  purpose  of  intimi¬ 
dation,  it  was  not  easy  to  determine.  The  Bedaween  are 
great  cowards,  no  doubt ;  and  but  for  their  matchlock  guns, 
with  which  they  take  a  clever  aim  from  a  distance,  I  believe 
half  a  dozen  cool  and  determined  Englishmen  would  put  a 
score  of  them  to  flight. 

Soon  after  eight  o’clock,  our  Sheikhs  acceded  to  the  terms 
proposed.  At  a  given  signal,  the  party  on  the  rock  vacated 
their  position,  and  came  down  into  the  encampment.  The 
terms,  so  far  as  I  could  understand  them,  were,  that  our 
Sinaite  Bedaween  should  be  dismissed,  with  their  camels — 
that  a  supply  of  camels,  of  equal  number,  should  be  furnished 
by  the  new  trice,  to  convey  us  throughout  to  Dhaheriyeh ; 
and  that  the  Sheikhs  in  our  caravan  should  be  allowed  to 
accompany  us  according  to  their  contract.  We  were  most 
unwilling  to  part  with  our  Arabs,  who  had  accompanied  us 
all  the  way  from  Cairo ;  but  there  was  no  avoiding  it.  And 
surely  we  had  no  right  to  complain  of  Desert  laws  and  usages. 

The  place  of  our  encampment  was  5iow  crowded  with 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  TIYAHAH  TRIBE. 


205 


camels,  which  had  been  brought  by  the  Tiyahah  Arabs;  and 
it  was  one  of  the  wildest  scenes  of  uproar  and  clamor  I  ever 
witnessed,  while  each  individual  possessing  a  camel,  insisted 
on  having  it  taken  into  service.  Sabres  were  drawn  by  men 
of  the  same  tribe,  upon  each  other;  and  a  slight  wound  or  two 
inflicted,  while  cutting  off  the  baggage  from  one  loaded  beast, 
in  order  to  put  it,  by  force,  upon  another.  And  there  is  no 
doubt,  that  many  a  display  of  desert  ferocity  would  have  been 
made,  but  for  the  resolute  interference  of  the  less  excited 
actors  in  the  strange,  wild  drama.  There  was  one  disap¬ 
pointed  savage,  whose  flashing  eye  and  fiendish  malignity  I 
shall  never  totally  forget.  He  stalked  away  like  a  man  bent 
on  mischief.  There  was  a  very  remarkable  difference  between 
the  appearance  and  manner  of  the  Tiyahah  tribe,  and  those 
with  whom  we  had  long  been  familiar.  They  had  a  gaunt, 
hungry  and  sanguinary  air,  and  a  recklessness  of  bearing 
which  proclaimed  them  to  be  among  the  most  untamed  sons 
of  the  Desert.  For  the  most  part  too,  they  were  taller,  more 
sinewy  and  attenuated  in  their  figures ;  and  the  few  rags 
which  they  wore  betokened  extreme  poverty. 

Soon  after  nine  o’clock,  we  were  all  loaded,  and  ready  to 
resume  our  journey,  with  minds  anything  but  possessed  in 
favor  of  our  new  escort.  Notwithstanding  the  presence  of 
our  Sheikhs,  I  felt  myself  little  better  than  a  prisoner  in  their 
hands ;  for  personally  we  had  made  no  contract  with  them  ; 
and  knew  not  exactly  upon  what  footing,  in  minute  particu¬ 
lars,  our  connection  with  them  was  placed.  As  a  general 
change  of  animals,  as  well  as  of  men,  had  been  effected,  I 
was  required  to  give  up  poor  Suleiman’s  fine  camel,  which  I 
had  ridden  thus  far  in  safety  and  comfort.  Another  was 
brought  for  me— a  beast  of  immense  height  and  strength,  and 
thoroughly  vicious ;  for  while  I  was  mounting,  he  rose  sud¬ 
denly  before  I  could  reach  my  seat,  and,  in  an  instant,  I  was 
thrown  head  foremost  upon  his  neck,  which,  with  a  great 
effort,  I  contrived  to  grasp  with  my  arms ;  and  while  thus  sus¬ 
pended,  the  huge  creature  reared  and  stamped  with  his  fore 
feet  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  incumbrance ;  and  it  was  not 

18 


206 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  TIYAHAH  TRIBE. 


till  some  of  the  Arabs  sprang  up  and  forced  him  down,  that  I 
could  land  myself  in  safety.  I  then  positively  refused  to  ride 
him,  and  insisted  on  being  permitted  to  resume  the  use  of 
Suleiman’s.  This  was  at  length  conceded  to  me;  and  all 
seemed  to  be  fully  adjusted. 

For  half  an  hour  our  way  lay  over  an  extensive  plain, 
rough  and  stony,  and  skirted  on  all  sides  by  limestone  rocks 
of  considerable  magnitude;  and,  crossing  the  plain  in  various 
directions,  we  saw  several  mounted  Arabs,  riding  at  full  speed 
towards  the  rock,  with  their  matchlock  guns  grasped  in  their 
extended  right  hands.  This  betokened  no  good ;  and  evi¬ 
dently  kept  our  party  on  the  qui  vive.  We  rode  on  slowly, 
having  our  Sheikhs  a  little  in  advance  of  the  caravan.  When 
we  had  reached  nearly  the  middle  of  the  plain,  we  saw  here 
and  there  a  straggling  Arab  in  the  distance.  By  and  by  their 
numbers  increased,  and  some  were  mounted.  At  length  they 
seemed,  as  if  by  magic,  to  spring  out  of  the  earth,  and  from 
the  clefts  in  the  distant  rocks.  The  whole  plain,  right  and 
left,  appeared  in  motion.  It  was  the  gathering  of  a  clan ! 
And  surely  never  did  the  mountain  beacon-fires  of  Scotland 
promote  a  more  prompt  and  startling  gathering.  They  rap¬ 
idly  advanced  towards  the  brow  of  a  low  sloping  sand-hill, 
which  commanded  our  route.  Their  numbers  were  great. 
I  could  not — I  did  not  attempt  to  count  them.  Our  party 
moved  on  but  slowly,  and,  as  I  thought,  with  an  embarrassed 
and  undecided  step.  We  kept  in  the  rear,  between  the 
Sheikhs  and  the  baggage  camels.  When  we  were  sufficient¬ 
ly  near,  a  deputation  from  either  side  met,  as  usual,  and  occu¬ 
pied  much  time  in  clamorous  talking,  accompanied  by  very 
emphatic  gesticulations.  We  still  kept  aloof,  feeling  that  any 
attempt  at  interference,  on  our  part,  would  be  but  folly  ;  though 
since  the  affair  with  the  Mezzeni,  which  ended  in  the  murder 
of  Suleiman,  I  entertained  no  personal  fear  ;  being  persuaded 
that  the  persons  and  property  of  travellers,  under  the  escort  of 
a  sufficiently  powerful  tribe,  would  be  respected  ;  yet  I  dread¬ 
ed,  lest  a  general  melee  should  take  place,  which  might  end 
in  bloodshed  and  permanent  feud  between  these  tribes. 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  TIYAHAH  TRIBE. 


207 


After  much  tedious  waiting,  which  was  wearisome  enough 
to  the  spirits,  one  of  our  men  who  was  engaged  in  conference, 
made  a  signal  for  us  to  proceed,  as  if  all  matters  of  dispute 
had  been  set  at  rest.  We  advanced  a  few  steps,  when  the 
whole  party  rushed  down  the  declivity,  on  which  they  had 
taken  up  their  position,  with  great  clamor  and  confusion  ; 
and  then  it  seemed  as  if  warfare  must  actually  commence. 
Matches  were  lighted,  and  weapons  made  ready.  We  dis¬ 
mounted  to  await  the  issue.  But,  after  all,  the  Arabs  are 
furious  talkers — and  talk  a  long  while  before  they  actually 
strike  a  home  blow.  Suddenly,  however,  a  rush  was  made 
as  if  to  seize  all  the  camels.  I  made  some  show  of  defending 
mine,  till  Jumar  came  up  and  took  charge  of  it.  We  soon 
found  ourselves  actually  in  the  possession  of  the  new  party  ; 
but  happily  they  consisted  of  that  division  of  the  Tiyahah 
tribe,  over  which  the  Sheikh  who  had  accompanied  us  from 
Akabah  had  authority;  so  that  in  this  stirring  scene  they 
were  in  some  sort  our  friends.  Again  we  renewed  our 
march  ;  but  once  more  were  compelled  to  halt.  New  ques¬ 
tions  arose  in  a  moment ;  and  again,  matches  were  lighted 
and  matchlocks  made  ready.  During  all  this  time  we  were 
in  total  ignorance  of  the  cause  of  this  new  outbreak.  Fresh 
attempts  were  made  to  force  us  to  dismount,  and  the  clamor 
was  wilder  and  louder  than  ever.  We  endeavored  to  pro¬ 
ceed,  when  suddenly  an  Arab,  of  no  very  prepossessing  ap¬ 
pearance,  rode  near  enough  by  my  side  to  snatch  the’ halter 
of  the  camel  out  of  my  hand,  which  he  fixed  to  the  pummel 
of  his  own  saddle.  I  was  somewhat  perplexed  at  this  ma¬ 
noeuvre,  and  laid  my  hand  on  my  pistols,  with  an  air  of  de¬ 
termination — looking  as  terrible  as  a  peaceful  man  could, 
when  the  fellow  immediately  took  out  from  his  saddle-bag  a 
cake  of  Arab  bread — broke  off  a  bit  and  gave  it  to  me,  at  the 
same  time  touching  his  heart  and  his  lips  with  his  hand. 
This  was  a  token  of  friendship.  We  both  ate  of  the  bread. 
We  were  thenceforth  to  be  allies;  for  to  eat  bread  together  is 
one  of  the  best  guarantees  of  safety  that  can  be  had  in  the 
Desert.  We  rode  on  in  silence,  but  in  some  anxiety  about 


203 


ADJUSTMENT  OF  DIFFERENCES. 


the  tents  and  baggage,  which  had  been  sent  in  advance,  be¬ 
fore  the  second  encounter  took  place.  After  several  hours’ 
march,  in  the  heat  of  the  noontide  sun,  we  were  rejoiced  at 
descrying,  at  about  an  hour’s  distance,  the  tents  pitched  ready 
for  our  arrival,  in  Wadey  es-S’ram.  The  sight  was  quite 
cheering.  As  we  advanced  up  the  Wadey,  which  here  and 
there  shewed  signs  of  rude  cultivation,  we  found  several 
Arabs  (I  believe*  of  the  tribe  called  ’Az&zimah),  some  tend¬ 
ing  their  goats,  and  others  threshing  out  wheat,  the  produce 
of  one  of  the  little  patches  of  cultivated  ground  near  at  hand. 

While  we  were  encamped,  fresh  matters  of  disturbance 
arose  between  our  Sheikhs  and  the  Tiy&hah  escort,  which 
bid  fair  to  break  out  into  another  stormy  scene.  It  seemed 
too  plain  that  the  Sheikhs  were  endeavoring  to  drive  a  sharp 
bargain.  We  determined  that  all  matters  should  be  com¬ 
pletely  adjusted  before  resuming  our  march.  This  was  facili¬ 
tated  by  the  unexpected  arrival  of  another  Sheikh,  belonging 
to  some  neighboring  tribe  ;  and  the  result  of  a  protracted  dis¬ 
cussion  was  the  payment  of  five  piastres  per  man  (about  one 
shilling  English),  to  the  Tiyahah  escort,  on  receipt  of  which 
they  agreed  to  withdraw  their  camels,  and  permit  us  to  pro¬ 
ceed  in  peace  with  our  Sinaite  party,  who  during  the  morn¬ 
ing  had  taken  a  circuitous  route,  and  were  now  in  sight, 
winding  round  a  mountain-pass  towards  Wadey  es-S’ram — 
the  place  of  our  encampment.  It  was  a  relief  to  my  mind  to 
learn  that  after  all,  we  were  to  complete  our  journey  under 
the  convoy  of  our  old  and  tried  friends,  who  showed  no  small 
satisfaction  at  being  again  encamped  with  us. 

As  there  was  water  to  be  had  beyond  a  range  of  hills 
which  skirted  one  side  of  Wadey  es-S’ram,  we  resolved  to 
encamp  where  we  then  were,  for  the  night — and  dispatched 
some  of  the  Arabs  to  the  wells,  called  Birein,  to  replenish  the 
water-skins.  And  it  was  indeed  a  gratifying  sight,  when  we 
beheld  all  the  disturbers  of  our  peace,  quietly  wending  their 
way  back  to  their  tents — gainers,  just  to  the  amount  of  five 
piastres  per  man,  after  all  the  turmoil  and  violence  which  we 
bad  witnessed  during  the  day.  We  were  assured  that  the 


EBODAH - ’ABDEH. 


209 


next  day’s  march  would  put  us  quite  out  of  the  reach  of 
danger  and  annoyance,  and  therefore  looked  forward  with 
some  eagerness  to  the  resuming  of  our  journey — a  little  dis¬ 
turbed,  perhaps,  at  seeing,  after  dark,  several  bivouac  fires  in 
the  Wadey  beyond,  and  on  the  mountains  around  us.  We 
could  not  quite  assure  ourselves,  that  it  was  not  preparatory  to 
some  movement  against  us  on  the  next  day.  Happily,  how¬ 
ever,  there  was  no  ground  for  apprehension.  Round  about 
Wadey  es-S’ram  the  desert  appeared  much  less  bare  and  arid. 
The  hills  assumed  a  smoother,  and  more  undulating  form  ; 
and  here  and  there  was  to  be  seen  a  thin  sprinkling  of  grass, 
but  seared  and  withered  by  the  heat  of  the  sun.  Traces,  too, 
of  rude  husbandry  were  visible  on  all  sides.  The  land  once 
K  flowing  with  miik  and  honey,  which  is  the  glory  of  all 
lands,”  was  ere  long  to  be  entered  on  ;  and  the  desert  itself 
began  to  give  tokens  of  our  approach  towards  its  borders. 

On  the  seventh  day  after  quitting  Akabah,  we  mounted  at 
five  o’clock,  and  pursued  our  journey  over  a  gently  undulating 
surface,  stretching  far  and  wide.  It  seemed  boundless,  as 
we  passed  from  slope  to  slope  ;  and  was  covered  with  small 
fragments  of  black  stone,  similar  to  what  we  had  found  in 
the  plain  of  Darfurekh.  The  former  dreariness  of  the  desert 
seemed  to  return'  upon  us.  After  nearly  two  hours  ride,  we 
noticed,  on  our  left,  some  ruins,  occupying  a  bold  and  promi 
nent  position  on  a  gracefully  rising  hill.  The  energy  of  the 
Roman  mind  had  once  been  displayed  there  ;  and  the  mould¬ 
ering  ruins  declared,  in  the  solitude  of  the  desert,  how  the 
glory  of  Rome  had  passed  away.  I  think  there  is  no  doubt 
that  these  are  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  Eboda — the  name  of 
which  seems  to  be  still  retained  in  the  Arabic  name,  ’Abdeh. 
We  turned  off  our  direct  path,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting 
these  remains  ;  and  as  we  approached  them,  we  noticed,  right 
and  left,  the  foundations  of  stone  walls,  which  had  evidently, 
in  days  gone  by,  served  to  separate  gardens  and  fields.  It 
was  relief  to  find  even  such  traces,  as  we  then  beheld,  of  a 
former  civilization,  in  this  now  almost  untrodden  wilderness. 
But  there  was  a  melancholy  feeling  connected  with  them. 

18* 


210 


EBODAH. 


The  activities  of  civilized  societies  had  ceased ;  the  race  who 
had  thought  and  felt,  and  hoped  and  wished,  and  acted  there, 
had  passed  away — the  dust  of  ages  had  covered  them  ;  and 
now  these  ruins  told  forth  a  humbling  tale  amidst  the  silence 
of  the  desert. 

The  most  prominent  objects  as  seen  at  a  distance,  were 
two  elevations  having  the  appearance  of  the  fortresses  of  an 
acropolis.  The  southern  base  and  slope  of  the  hill  are  cov¬ 
ered  with  the  prostrated  ruins  of  buildings,  of  hewn  stone, 
amongst  which  are  several  columns  and  entablatures.  On 
the  summit,  towards  the  west,  are  the  remains  of  a  Greek 
Church,  the  walls  of  which  are,  in  many  parts,  erect,  and  also 
of  hewn  stone.  Towards  the  east,  are  the  ruins  of  a  for¬ 
tress,  in  the  form  of  a  parallelogram,  and  of  a  similar  mate¬ 
rial.  No  inscriptions  are  any  where  to  be  found.  Wells  and 
cisterns,  now  dry,  are  seen  among  the  ruins,  one  of  which  is 
cut  to  a  great  depth  in  the  solid  rock.  It  was  formerly  arched 
over,  but  the  arching  is  now  broken  through.  At  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  and  separated  by  a  broad  ravine,  is  another  deep  well, 
finished  with  an  arch  above,  of  good  solid  masonry.  These 
ruins  altogether  give  proof  of  ancient  importance  and  great 
strength.  The  Church,  from  its  apparent  magnitude,  sug¬ 
gests  that  the  Christian  population  must  once  have  been  large, 
though  Eboda  is  no  where  mentioned  in  history  as  an  epis¬ 
copal  city.*  Here,  then,  the  cross  of  the  Redeemer  was  once 
planted  ;  and  here  perhaps  souls  have,  in  days  gone  by,  be¬ 
held  by  faith  the  Son  of  God,  and  obtained  “  redemption 
through  his  blood.”  But  there  is  now  no  living  lip  to  pro¬ 
claim  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus;  and  the  wandering  Bedawee 
of  the  desert  loiters  here  with  his  camel,  and  wonders  what 
manner  of  stones  are  these.  It  is  a  common  belief  among  the 
Arabs,  that  hidden  treasures  of  great  value  are  yet  existing 
in  these  scenes  of  desolation  and  decay. 

While  we  were  occupied  with  these  ruins,  the  caravan  pro¬ 
ceeded  by  a  less  circuitous  route  ;  and  in  order  to  rejoin  it 
\y*  were  obliged  to  make  a  cut  across  a  part  of  the  Desert, 

*  See  Dr.  Robinson,  Vol.  I.  pp.  285 — 287. 


WADEY  ER  RTJHAIBEH - REHOBOTH. 


211 


too  uneven  and  toilsome  for  the  baggage  camels.  As  we 
advanced,  we  found  additional  traces  of  walls,  which  had 
once  separated  gardens  or  fields.  Frequent  patches  of  rude 
cultivation  appeared  ;  but  we  met  with  no  Arab  encamp¬ 
ments.  At  about  half  past  ten  we  reached  Wadey  er  Ruhai 
beh,  where  we  found  more  ruins.  Just  on  the  left  of  the  camel 
way  is  an  arched  building  with  a  dome — probably  the  re 
mains  of  a  Mahommedan  Santon’s  tomb.  On  ascending  tho 
brow  of  the  hill  beyond  it,  the  extensive  ruins  of  an  ancient 
city,  tumbled  together  as  if  overthrown  by  an  earthquake,  pre¬ 
sented  themselves.  Many  acres  are  covered  with  them.  The 
shapes  of  houses,  and  the  forms  of  streets,  may  still,  though 
with  some  difficulty,  be  traced.  There  are  the  probable  re¬ 
mains  of  a  Christian  Church,  but  no  inscriptions  of  any 
kind.  Dr.  Robinson  thinks  it  must  have  been  a  city,  with  a 
population  of  at  least  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants. 
The  traces  of  the  mason’s  chisel  are  yet  visible  on  the  surface 
of  some  of  the  stones — but  the  whole  scene  is  one  of  impres¬ 
sive  desolation.  There  is  great  difficulty  in  the  attempt  to 
connect  these  ruins  with  any  ancient  record  ;  though  it  has 
been  remarked  that  the  Arabic  name  of  the  Wadey  in  which 
they  are  found,  (Er -Ruhaibeh),  suggests  the  Hebrew  name 
Rehoboth ,  one  of  Isaac’s  wells,  in  the  vicinity  of  Gerah.* 
During  our  afternoon  march,  the  aspect  of  the  Desert  un¬ 
derwent  a  total  change.  Instead  of  the  bare,  arid  and  stony 
surface,  with  which  we  had  been  so  long  familiar,  we  passed 
over  beautifully  sloping  hills  of  sand,  sprinkled  with  myriads 
of  small  white  snail  shells,  and  in  many  places  thickly  stud¬ 
ded  with  a  kind  of  broom  called  Retem ,  and  other  hardy  plants. 
The  Desert  seemed  to  put  on  a  smile,  as  the  sun  illuminated 
the  fresh  green  which  garnished  its  varied  surface.  In  many 
parts,  it  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  wild  English  common, 
of  boundless  entent.  In  the  course  of  our  ride  we  passed  an 
Arab  burial-place,  in  which  was  a  sort  of  cairn,  or  rugged 
heap  of  stones  irregularly  thrown  together.  It  is  the  tomb  of 
Sheikh  El-’Amry,  whose  name  the  Arabs  always  mention 

*  Gen.  xxvi.  22.  See  Dr.  Robinson,  Vol.  I.  p.  290,  291. 


212 


WADEY  EL  KHALUSEH - ELUSA - THE  RETEM. 


with  a  curse  ;  and  many  show  their  hatred  of  it  by  spitting 
on  the  tomb  as  they  pass.  There  is  a  legend,  or  superstition, 
connected  with  the  memory  of  this  personage,  the  particulars 
of  which  I  could  not  collect.  About  two  hours  after  sunset, 
we  were  delightfully  encamped  in  Wadey  el  Khaluseh — a 
broad,  open  plain,  skirted  by  hold  and  beautiful  hills,  clothed 
with  shrubs  and  herbage.  As  I  walked  out  from  the  tent  in 
the  evening,  bright  with  moonlight,  I  was  pleased  at  seeing 
two  or  three  of  the  camels,  which  had  strayed  up  to  some  of 
the  heights  around  us,  presenting  their  peculiar  and  graceful 
outlines  in  strong  relief  upon  the  background  of  a  grey, 
cloudless  sky.  There  they  stood,  as  motionless  as  statues; 
impressing  the  mind  deeply  with  a  sense  of  the  orientalism 
of  the  whole  scene  ;  while  below  and  around  were  the  watch- 
fires  of  the  Arabs,  exhibiting,  in  fine  chiaro-  scuro,  their  pictu¬ 
resque  persons  and  costumes  while  gathered  together  in 
groups.  The  hope  that  another  day’s  march  would  bring  us 
up  to  the  borders  of  Canaan,  occupied  my  mind  so  much  as 
to  make  me  almost  sleepless  with  anticipation. 

By  six  o’clock  on  the  following  morning,  we  were  in  mo¬ 
tion  again  ;  and  on  the  right  of  our  encampment,  saw,  by  the 
morning’s  light,  the  ruins  of  what  Dr.  Robinson  believes,  on 
probable  grounds,  to  be  the  ancient  Elusa ,  the  name  of  which 
is  easily  traceable  in  that  of  the  valley  which  they  overlook — 
Wadey  el  Khaluseh.  We  did  not  stay  to  explore  these  re¬ 
mains,  being  anxious  to  press  onwards  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  ancient  Elusa  lay  with¬ 
out  the  borders  of  Canaan.  It  is  mentioned  by  Ptolemy,  in 
the  first  half  of  the  second  century,  among  the  cities  of  Idu 
mea,  west  of  the  Dead  Sea.  It  was  an  episcopal  city ;  although 
chiefly  inhabited  by  Heathens,  connected  with  the  Saracens 
of  the  adjacent  deserts.  Jerome  relates  that  in  his  time  it 
was  semi-barbarous.  * 

Pursuing  our  morning  route  over  the  graceful  slopes  ot 
sand  hills,  thickly  covered  with  the  Retem  and  other  plants 
and  shrubs,  which  frequently  grow  up  to  the  height  of  small 
*  See  Dr.  Robinson,  Yol.  I.  p.  297,  298. 


THE  RETEM - THE  BORDERS  OF  CANAAN. 


213 


forest  clumps,  I  could  sometimes  almost  so  far  forget  that  1 
was  in  the  Desert,  as  to  look  for  a  village  spire,  after  the  man¬ 
ner  of  England,  peeping  forth  from  the  forest-like  scenery 
through  which  we  were  passing.  The  shade  afforded  by  the 
tall  and  spreading  branches  of  the  Retem,  is  very  cheering 
and  refreshing ;  and  often  quite  enough  to  protect  against  the 
hottest  sunbeams.  It  is  most  probable  that  under  the  shade 
of  this  very  shrub,*  the  prophet  Elijah  lay  down  and  slept, 
and  requested  for  himself  that  he  might  die.  And,  certainly, 
it  was  in  this  wilderness — a  day’s  journey  from  Beersheba, 
that  that  event  of  his  life  occurred,  and  where  the  Angel 
touched  him,  and  said  unto  him.  “  Arise  and  eat and  he 
looked,  and  behold  there  was  a  cake  baken  on  the  coals  (I 
suppose  as  the  Arabs  now  bake  their  bread),  and  a  cruse  of 
water  at  his  head. 

At  about  ten  o’clock,  a  still  further  change  was  visible  in 
the  whole  extent  of  the  country  about  us.  Behind,  lay  the 
last  characteristics  of  the  Desert,  over  which  we  had  passed  : 
while  before,  and  on  either  side,  were  beautifully  swelling 
hills,  covered  with  a  thin  and  delicate  grass — not  green,  but 
yellow  almost  as  gold,  and  presenting  a  rich  and  beautiful 
tinting  as  the  sun  shone  down  upon  it.  Not  a  tree — not  a 
shrub  was  to  be  seen  ;  but  an  unbroken  and  interminable 
range  of  pasturage,  capable,  in  moist  seasons,  of  affording  sus¬ 
tenance  to  innumerable  flocks.  Here  and  there  were  small 
parties  of  Arabs,  with  numbers  of  sheep  and  goats ;  and,  now 
and  then,  a  tent  or  two,  of  black  camel-hair  cloth,  where 
was  carried  on  a  manufacture,  in  rudely  constructed  looms, 
of  the  material  of  which  the  outer  Arab  garments  are  made. 
The  Arabs  salaamed  us  as  we  passed. 

#  #  #  #  #  # 

Our  Desert  route  was  now  at  an  end — we  were  within  the 
borders  of  Canaan  ! 

How  sweet  and  balmy  was  the  air,  and  how  charning  the 

*  See  1  Kings  xix.  4 — 6.  The  Hebrew  word,  which  our  translators 
have  rendered  “  Juniper  tree"  is,  as  to  its  radical  letters,  the  same  as  the 
Arabic  Retem — the  name  of  the  umbrageous  shrub  so  common  in  this  part 
of  the  Desert,  which  borders  upon  Canaan. 


214 


BIR-ES-SEBA - EEERSHEBA. 


prospect  which  then  lay  before  us — the  land  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey — the  mountains  of  Judah,  in  graceful  outline 
upon  the  east  and  north-eastern  horizon.  I  cannot  say  that 
any  strong  emotion  possessed  my  mind,  on  being  told  that  I 
was  no  longer  a  wanderer  in  “  the  great  and  terrible  wilder¬ 
ness,”  but  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  in  sight  of  the  moun¬ 
tains  of  Judah  ;  but  certainly  my  heart  swelled  with  a  sense 
of  unutterable  gratitude  to  my  heavenly  Father,  who  had  led 
me  thus  far  in  safety,  amidst  many  perils — along  my  weari¬ 
some  and  difficult  way. 

About  another  hour’s  brisk  travelling  brought  us  to  a 
smooth  grassy  spot,  where  the  slopes  of  many  hills  met,  and 
in  which  were  gathered  large  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats 
mingled  together,  after  the  manner  of  patriarchal  times.  Our 
tents  had  been  sent  on,  and  were  pitched  ready  to  receive  us. 
How  delightfully  inviting  were  those  primitive  habitations, 
in  a  land  so  smooth  and  so  smiling  as  that  on  which  we  had 
entered. 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  encampment  were  two  wells  ; 
and  at  the  principal  one,  a  number  of  shepherds  employed 
in  drawing  water,  with  long  ropes  having  loose  buckets, 
made  of  skins,  attached  to  them.  They  were  singing  their 
dreamy  song  as  they  toiled  at  their  occupation  ;  and  the 
thirsty  flocks  drew  near,  by  turns,  and  drank  freely  of  the 
water,  poured  out  into  rude  troughs,  formed  of  large  blocks 
of  stone,  which  had  doubtless  been  in  use  for  many  a 
century. 

u  What  wells  are  these  ?” 

“  Bir-es-Seba ,”  said  our  Arabs. 

The  Arabic  name  carried  with  it  a  familiar  sound.  The 
days  of  Abraham  were  at  once  associated  with  it.  These  are, 
no  doubt,  the  ancient  wells  of  Beersheba. 

- And  where  is  Abraham?  - We  miffht  almost 

have  been  induced  to  forget  that  ages  had  rolled  by  since 
here,  as  a  shepherd,  he  sat  by  the  well  and  tended  his  flocks  ; 
and  might  have  looked  for  his  patriarchal  form  amidst  the 
shepherds  of  a  more  recent  age. 


BEERSHEBA. 


215 


I  drank  of  the  wells  of  Beersheba.  The  water  was  fresh 
and  pleasant,  though  it  had  a  slight  earthy  flavor.  The 
mouths  of  the  wells  are  nearly  even  with  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  and  protected  by  a  firm  and  solid  curbstone  all  round, 
in  which  deep  grooves  have  been  worn  by  the  friction  of  the 
ropes  used  in  drawing  water. 

On  the  north  side  of  the  wells,  ascending  a  range  of  low 
sloping  hills,  are  to  be  seen  the  remains  of  human  habita¬ 
tions  ;  but  nothing  is  left  to  give  any  idea  of  their  extent  or 
character.  Fragments  of  pottery  are  scattered  in  all  direc¬ 
tions  among  the  ruins.  Both  Eusebius  and  Jerome  have 
spoken  of  a  place  of  habitation  on  this  spot,  and  designated  it 
as  a  large  village  with  a  Roman  garrison. 

The  geographical  relation  of  Bir-es-Seba,  is  such  as  to  leave 
but  little  doubt  that  it  is  the  Beersheba  of  scripture,  where 
Abraham  dug  a  well*  (most  probably  one  of  those  which  we 
had  visited) ;  where  he  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  often  dwelt,  and 
from  whence  the  Patriarch,  with  his  only  son  Isaac,  went  up 
to  Mount  Moriah,  for  the  purpose  of  offering  up  a  sacrifice 
that  was  typical  of  a  higher  and  a  better  :f  the  very  spot 
from  which  Jacob  fled  to  Padan-aram,  with  his  brother  Esau’s 
birthright  and  blessing  ;;j;  and  where  also  he  sacrificed  to 
Jehovah  on  going  forth  to  Joseph  in  Egypt.  §  The  whole  of 
Canaan  now  lay  before  us,  from  Beersheba  even  to  Dan. 

It  was  on  the  ninth  day  after  our  departure  from  Akabah 
that  we  reached  Dhaheriyeh,  having  passed  over  a  rich 
grazing  country,  very  similar  to  that  round  about  Beersheba, 
till  within  about  the  last  two  hours,  when  we  entered  upon  a 
pass  running  between  limestone  hills,  sometimes  rising  and 
projecting  with  considerable  boldness,  and  productive  in 
various  kinds  of  rock-plants.  We  were  often  cheered  by  the 
song  of  skylarks,  bounding  up  into  the  clear  expanse  with 
their  “  most  eloquent  music.”  The  morning  was  balmy  and 
refreshing.  While  I  was  riding  in  advance  of  the  party,  a 
hyena  crossed  my  path — the  only  wild  beast  I  had  seen 


*  Gen.  xxi.  30,  31. 

X  Gen.  xxviii.  2 — 10. 


t  Gen.  xxii.  1 — 19. 
§  Gen.  xlvi.  I. 


216 


DHAHERIYEH — AGRICULTURAL  PURSUITS. 


during  my  wanderings.  He  was  moving  at  a  slow  pace  \ 
but  soon  trotted  up  one  of  the  mountain  sides,  out  of  the  reach 
of  Bedaween  guns. 

Dhaheriyeh  occupies  a  prominent  site  on  a  hill,  and  is 
visible  at  a  considerable  distance ;  but  it  has  an  aspect  of 
poverty  and  wretchedness.  It  consists  of  hovels  built  of  mud 
and  stone.  Remains  of  fortification,  and,  as  we  judged,  of  a 
church  also,  are  still  to  be  seen.  Some  have  imagined  that 
Dhaheriyeh  was  one  of  the  line  of  small  fortresses  which  were 
built  along  the  southern  boundary  of  Palestine.  However 
squalid  in  appearance,  there  yet  seems  to  be  considerable 
wealth  in  herds  and  camels. 

We  pitched  our  tents  under  some  olive  trees,  at  the  distance 
of  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  walls,  near  extensive 
threshing  floors  covered  with  grain,  and  were  soon  surrounded 
by  a  number  of  the  inhabitants,  who  came  forth  to  recon¬ 
noitre  the  European  travellers.  The  arrival  of  a  caravan 
from  the  Desert,  is  an  event  for  the  good  people  of  Dha 
heriyeh.  They  behaved  with  civility,  though  eyes,  ears — 
every  faculty  seemed  taxed  to  the  utmost  in  the  service  of 
their  curiosity.  Some  stood  in  groups  talking  loudly  alto¬ 
gether  ;  others  sat  in  the  dust  smoking  their  long  pipes,  and 
looking  on  in  silence.  The  inhabitants  are  all  shepherds 
and  agriculturists.  We  walked  round  to  see  their  manner 
of  cultivating  grain,  tobacco,  and  cucumbers  The  tobacco 
was  in  bloom.  When  seen  in  considerable  quantities  in  that 
state,  it  presents  a  beautiful  appearance.  The  tillage  is  very 
rude  and  unscientific.  The  wheat-produce  is  thin  and  poor. 
They  were  busily  employed  on  their  threshing  floors,  which 
are  wide  open  spaces  on  the  surface  of  a  table-rock  of  lime¬ 
stone.  The  grain  is  beaten  out  by  the  treading  of  oxen 
yoked  together.  These  animals  are  not  muzzled  while 
treading  out  the  corn,  but  are  allowed  to  pick  up  their  morsel 
when  they  choose  to  do  so.  As  a  prevalent  oriental  custom 
which  we  had  noticed  in  Egypt,  and  afterwards  had  frequent 
occasion  for  observing  in  Syria,  we  felt  it  to  be  the  continua 
tion  of  a  practice  enjoined  and  recognized  in  Scripture,  from 


DHAHERIYEH. 


217 


an  early  period.*  I  presume  that  but  little  change  has  taken 
place  in  the  pastoral  habits  of  the  people,  since  Abraham  and 
his  family  dwelt  in  the  land.  We  saw  numerous  large 
flocks,  both  of  sheep  and  goats ;  and  considerable  herds  of 
small  and  beautifully  formed  neat  cattle.  We  obtained 
delicious  milk — a  pleasant  change  after  the  privations  inci¬ 
dent  to  the  Desert.  From  the  heights  we  could  not  obtain 
any  extensive  view,  but  only  a  succession  of  swelling  hills. 
Fig  and  olive  trees  are  scattered  round  about ;  but  “  the  time 
of  figs  was  not  yet.” 

As  Dhaheriyeh  was  the  extreme  point  to  which  our  Sinaite 
Arabs  could  escort  us,  we  sent  for  the  Sheikh  el  Beled  (Sheikh 
of  the  village),  and  make  our  bargain  with  him  for  camels, 
horses,  and  asses,  to  take  us  on  to  Jerusalem.  As  our  Desert 
stores  were  nearly  all  consumed,  we  required  only  a  much 
reduced  establishment  to  bring  us  on  to  the  Holy  City.  The 
Arabs  of  Dhaheriyeh  had  none  of  the  wild  peculiarities  of  the 
Bedaween,  and  seemed  to  want  much  of  their  free  buoyancy 
of  spirit,  though  they  are  quite  as  noisy. 

As  we  resolved  to  leave  Dhaheriyeh  early  on  the  following 
morning,  it  was  needful  that  all  our  arrangements  should  be 
made  before  we  slept.  One  matter  really  caused  me  some 
regret — it  was  the  necessity  of  bidding  farewell  to  the  faithful 
and  kind-hearted  Bedaween,  who  had  been  our  guides  and 
companions  over  many  a  dreary  route,  and  amidst  many 
surrounding  dangers.  A  hearty  cordiality  had  grown  up 
amongst  us.  They  had  rendered  us  the  most  willing  and 
cheerful  service  ;  and  I  felt  a  sadness  stealing  over  my  heart, 
as  they  gathered  together  their  camels,  in  preparation  for  a 
short  evening  march  towards  the  Desert,  for  the  purpose  of  re¬ 
tracing  their  steps  to  their  tents  in  -the  peninsula  of  Mount 
Sinai.  I  think  we  were  all  unwilling  to  part.  As  a 
Christian — and  a  Christian  minister,  1  could  but  think  how 
sad  it  was  that  these  poor  Heathen  should  go  back  to  their 
cents  and  their  wild  Desert  habits,  without  carrying  with 

*  Deut.  xxv.  4.  “  Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox  when  he  treadeth  out 

the  corn.”  See  also  1  Cor.  ix.  9.  1  Tim.  v.  18. 

19 


218 


DISMISSAL  OF  THE  BEDAWEEN. 


them  truths  that  might  bear  upon  the  eternal  interests  of  theif 
souls.  But  what  could  we  do  ?  We  had  no  means  of  speak* 
ing  to  them  on  such  topics. 

We  gathered  the  poor  fellows  about  us;  and  in  addition  to 
the  amount  of  the  contract  with  Jumar,  gave  him  a  back- 
sheech  of  one  hundred  piastres,  and  ten  to  each  of  the  rest, 
with  the  addition  of  a  few  shawls  for  turbans,  and  a  tarbouch 
or  two.  These  small  rewards  were  received  with  smiling 
satisfaction,  and  we  stood  with  them  as  friends  among  friends. 

The  hour  of  departure  arrived.  Their  camels  were  all 
loaded.  We  gave  out  a  few  rations  of  tobacco  and  coffee,  as 
a  last  present;  when,  one  by  one,  they  made  their  adieus; 
and — last  of  all,  Jumar  kissed  me  solemnly  on  both  cheeki 
and  on  my  forehead- — and  gave  me  his  final  salaam.  They 
were  soon  in  motion  ;  and  winding  their  slow  way  by  the 
route  through  which  we  had  arrived,  our  tried  friends  of  th6 
Desert  were  soon  lost  to  us.  My  heart  warms-  towards  these 
interesting  people  as  I  write.  Few  things  in  travel  would 
give  me  more  pleasure  than  to  be  en  route  with  them  again  ; 
and  I  think  many  an  eye  would  sparkle  were  they  to  see  us 
once  more  in  their  Desert-home,  and  mounted  on  their  cameis. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


PALESTINE; 

PROM  DHAHERIYEH  TO  JERUSALEM. 

Palestine — Hebron — Valley  of  Eshcol — Machpelah — Jewish  Pilgrims— Road  to  Beth¬ 
lehem — Bethlehem — Chapel  of  the  Nativity — Bethlehem — Village  of  the  Shepherds 
— Costume,  etc. — Departure  from  Bethlehem — Tomb  of  Rachel — Jerusalem— 
Arrival  at  the  Latin  Convent,  Jerusalem. 


And  have  my  feet  really  pressed  the  rocks  and  valleys  of 
Judea?  And  have  these  eyes  gazed  on  the  venerated  scenes 
of  Palestine — the  allotments  of  the  tribes — the  inheritance, 
the  forfeited  inheritance  of  God’s  ancient  people  Israel,  once 
the  glory  of  all  lands,  but  now  the  abode  of  desolation?  Have 
I,  indeed,  been  a  privileged  wanderer  in  the  land  of  prophetic 
announcement — of  miracle  and  wonder — the  land  in  which 
prophecy  is  yet  to  be  gloriously  fulfilled  as  certainly  as  it  has 
been,  and  in  which  the  consummation  and  triumph  of  gospel 
glory  shall  be  manifested  ?  My  heart  kindles  at  the  recollec¬ 
tion,  and  memory  brings  forth  her  deposits  to  confirm  the 
sense  of  reality.  But,  I  feel  while  now  mentally  retracing 
my  steps,  how  feeble  are  the  efforts  of  the  pen,  to  make  known 
to  others,  the  vividness  of  impression  made  on  my  mind  and 
heart  by  the  presence  of  localities  such  as  these.  The  emo¬ 
tion  with  which  I  recollect,  is  far  more  intense  than  that  with 
which  I  felt,  amidst  the  toils  of  travel,  and  the  constant  suc¬ 
cession  of  new  objects  of  interest. 

Small  as  is  the  territory  of  Palestine,  geographically  speak¬ 
ing,  yet  there  is  no  spot  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  with  which 
can  be  associated  so  various  and  vast  an  accumulation  of 
historical  interest,  beginning  from  the  time  when  Jehovah 
spake  to  Abram,  and  said  “  Get  thee  out  from  thy  country, 


220 


PALESTINE. 


and  from  thy  kindred,  and  from  thy  father’s  house,  unto  a  land 
that  I  will  show  thee :  and  I  will  make  of  thee  a  great  nation, 
and  I  will  bless  thee,  and  make  thy  name  great ;  and  thou 
shalt  be  a  blessing :  and  I  will  bless  them  that  bless  thee,  and 
curse  him  that  curseth  thee  ;  and  in  thee  shall  all  families  of 
the  earth  be  blessed.” *  Whether  we  contemplate  the  estab¬ 
lishment  of  Israel  in  the  land  of  promise,  and  the  might  with 
which,  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  they  trod  down  their 
enemies  under  their  feet ;  whether  we  reflect  upon  Israel  and 
her  history,  when  the  Lord  himself  was  their  king,  and  they 
yielded  to  his  paternal  theocracy  ;  whether  we  ponder  over 
the  splendors  of  the  regal  sway  under  which  God,  in  com¬ 
pliance  with  their  desire,  saw  good  to  place  them  ;  whether 
we  contemplate  the  ruin  which  followed  on  their  apostacy, 
and  associate  with  it  an  idea  of  the  might,  and  then  the 
nothingness  of  those  powers  which  God  raised  up  as  instru¬ 
ments  of  his  righteous  judgments  towards  a  rebellious  people; 
whether  we  think  of  the  glory  which  was  once  so  great,  and 
of  the  desolation  which  remains  to  this  day — Palestine  is  the 
■wondrous  centre-point  to  which  every  recollection  pours  its 
overwhelming  tribute.  And  while  humbled  and  depressed 
under  a  sense  of  our  universal  fall  in  the  transgression  of  the 
first  Adam,  and  turning  to  the  page  which  reveals  the  fulness 
of  divine  mercy  and  love:  as  manifested  in  the  greatest  of  all 
gifts — the  gift  of  God’s  dear  Son,  we  turn  our  eyes  to  the  land 
of  Palestine — all  our  interest  centres  there  ;  for  there  pro¬ 
phecy  had  its  accomplishment,  and  promise  its  fulfilment — 
there  was  set  forth  the  greatest  mystery  of  godliness — God 
manifest  in  the  flesh — there  mercy  and  truth  met  together — 
there  righteousness  and  peace  kissed  each  other — there  shone 
forth  the  tenderness  of  the  Father’s  love — there  was  heard  the 
hopeful  choral  song  of  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  in 
earth  peace,  good  will  towards  man — there  was  accomplished 
the  wondrous  sacrifice  which  makes  salvation  possible,  and 
eternal  glory  sure ;  and  from  thence  went  forth  to  the  distant 
ends  of  the  earth,  the  glorious  truth  on  which  every  hope  of 

*  Gen.  xii.  1 — 3. 


PALESTINE. 


221 


man  depends,  that  u  God  was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world 
unto  himself,  not  imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them.”  And 
though  the  brightness  of  gospel  light  has  faded  there — though 
it  glimmers  only  amidst  the  thick  shades  of  an  apostate 
church,  and  from  the  corruptions  of  a  decayed  church,  savor¬ 
ing  too  much  of  the  blindness  and  idolatry  of  Rome — though 
Israel  too  is  banished,  and  the  few  stragglers  of  their  race 
there  drag  on  their  days  in  poverty  and  oppression ;  though 
fruitful  valleys  are  barren  ;  though  vine  and  olive  crowned 
hills  now  yield  an  unwilling  and  scanty  subsistence  to  the 
degraded  population  that  sigh  among  them ;  yet — Palestine 
is  the  centre  of  all  interest  still,  the  spot  to  which  the  hopeful 
Christian  looks  while  praying  over  the  page  of  prophecy ;  the 
scene  on  which  hard-hearted  Israel  hopes  that  Messiah  shall 
yet  come,  to  restore  royal  dignity  and  temporal  glory  upon  a 
chosen  and  still  beloved  people. 

It  was  in  the  early  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  June, 
when  we  resumed  the  journey,  and  turned  our  steps  towards 
Hebron.*  The  u  hill  country”  of  Judah  then  lay  before  us. 
Our  route  was  by  a  continuous  valley  between  bold  limestone 
rocks  of  moderate  height,  sometimes  entirely  clothed,  and  at 
others  thinly  scattered  over  with  the  prickly  oak,  pines,  and 
other  trees  and  shrubs  less  familiar  to  us.  Small  cultivated 
spots  were  fenced  off  with  low  stone  walls,  similar  to  those  we 
had  seen  on  the  borders  of  the  Desert.  As  we  proceeded,  my 
mind  became  more  and  more  assured  of  the  fact,  that  this 
ancient  route — trodden  by  the  feet  of  men  in  all  ages  of  the 
world’s  history — the  main  and  direct  road  from  Beersheba  to 
Bethlehem,  and  thence  to  Jerusalem,  must  have  been  that  by 
which  the  child  Jesus  and  his  virgin  mother,  with  Joseph, 
took  their  flight  from  Bethlehem,  when  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
had  said  to  Joseph,  in  a  dream,  “  Arise,  and  take  the  young 
child  and  his  mother,  and  flee  into  Egypt,  and  be  thou  there 
until  I  bring  thee  word  ;  for  Herod  will  seek  the  young  child 

*  The  Arabic  name  of  which  is  El  Khalil — the  Friend.  It  is  not  impro¬ 
bable  that  this  name  is  associated  with  Abraham,  “  the  friend  of  God.” 

19* 


222 


HEBRON. 


to  destroy  him.r#  The  latter  part  of  the  journey  lay  over  the 
brows  of  several  hills  in  succession,  many  parts  of  which  were 
steep  and  difficult,  and  frequently  devoid  of  all  herbage.  At 
length,  after  about  four  hours’  steady  travelling,  our  eyes  first 
rested  on  the  city  of  Hebron,  built  upon  the  slope  of  a  hill ; 
its  grey  stone  buildings  having  roofs  constructed  in  domes, 
and  bearing  an  aspect  of  neatness  and  cleanliness  as  seen  at  a 
distance.  Between  us  and  the  city  lay  an  extensive  plain, 
stretching  out  to  the  right  and  left,  towards  which  we  de¬ 
scended  by  a  steep  pass,  worn  in  the  rock  by  the  traffic  of 
ages.  On  the  right  were  abundant  olive  grounds  ;  and  on  the 
left,  a  luxuriant  vineyard.  The  clusters  of  fruit  were  just  in 
the  process  of  formation,  and  by  their  magnitude  gave  promise 
of  rich  abundance.  The  vineyard  is  fenced  off  with  a  stone 
wall,  and  in  the  midst  is  a  tower — a  watch-tower  according  to 
the  ancient  custom. f  This  we  noticed  also  in  most  of  the 
vineyards  which  we  saw  afterwards.  We  pitched  our  tents 
under  the  shade  of  some  fine  olive  trees  ;  and  while  enjoying 
our  rest,  looked  forth  upon  Hebron,  and  the  plain  of  Mamre 
which  lay  before  us.J  Our  stay  in  the  neighborhood  of  this 
venerable  city  was  only  for  a  few  hours,  and  admitted  of  but 
a  hasty  visit  within  its  walls. 

Though  so  promising  on  the  approach,  yet  its  interior  is 
miserably  filthy  and  wretched.  The  bazaars  are  close  and 
dark ;  and  for  the  most  part,  the  inhabitants  appear  poor  and 
gloomy.  In  the  midst  of  the  plain  of  Mamre  is  a  large 


*  Matt.  ii.  13.  t  Isaiah  v.  2;  Matt.  xxi.  33. 

t  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  “  Mamre”  included  a  considerable  district 
around  Hebron;  though  we  are  accustomed  to  think  of  it  as  a  plain  lying 
in  the  midst  of  bold  hills.  I  ajn  persuaded  the  hills  themselves  are  included 
in  the  term.  It  is  said  of  Abraham,  that  he  dwelt  in  the  “plain”  (though 
some  critics  would  render  it  “the  oaks  or  terebinth  trees ”)  of  Mamre,  which 
is  in  Hebron.  (Gen.  xiii.  18.)  There  is  no  doubt  then,  that  the  plain  (if 
such  is  the  proper  rendering),  in  which  we  were  encamped,  was  that  plain. 
In  Gen.  xxiii.  19;  xxxv.  27;  xlix.  30;  1.  13,  “Mamre”  is  used  alone — 
without  any  mention  of  the  plain.  There  is  clearly  a  distinction  in  this. 
From  the  plain  of  Mamre,  Abraham  could  not  have  looked  towards  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah,  so  as  to  see  the  smoke  of  the  country  going  up  as  the  smoke 
of  a  furnace  (see  Gen.  xix.  28);  but  from  the  heights  on  the  south-east  of 
Hebron — looking  towards  the  east,  I  think  he  could  easily  have  seen  those 
proofs  of  Divine  vengeance. 


HEBRON - VALLEY  OF  ESCHOL. 


223 


threshing  floor,  on  which  both  oxen  and  men  were  employed 
as  at  Dhaheriyeh.  I  brought  with  me  a  few  grains  of  the 
wheat  grown  on  this  distinguished  spot.  The  mosque  within 
the  city  of  Hebron,  is  said  to  have  been  built  over  the  cave  of 
Machpelah,  the  burial-place  of  Abraham  and  Sarah — of  Isaac, 
Jacob,  Rebecca,  and  Leah.  Over  this  spot  the  Moslems  keep 
a  jealous  watch.  I  did  not  enter  the  mosque :  nor  is  it  an 
easy  matter  to  do  so,  for  either  Jews  or  Christians.  It  is  de¬ 
lightful,  indeed,  while  writing  these  pages,  to  recollect  it  was 
at  Hebron  that  Abraham,  and  other  distinguished  men  of  the 
patriarchal  age,  dwelt  and  enjoyed  peculiar  communion  with 
God ;  that  there  God  “  brought  Abraham  forth  abroad,  and 
said,  look  toward  heaven,  and  tell  the  stars  if  thou  be  able  to 
number  them ;  so  shall  thy  seed  be  — that  there  David 
once  wandered  over  the  hills,  a  shepherd  boy  ;  and  after  the 
death  of  Saul  was  there  anointed  king,  and  took  up  his  royal 
residence  for  seven  years ;  and  near  at  hand  was  the  pool 
over  which  he  hanged  up  the  murderers  of  Ishbosheth.f  It 
is  more  than  probable,  that  there  too,  he — the  sweet  lyrist  of 
Israel,  composed  some  of  those  psalms  to  the  spirit  of  which 
the  Church  of  God,  in  all  ages,  has  made  its  heartfelt  response. 

I  should  gladly  have  lingered  about  Hebron ;  but  it  was 
needful  to  proceed ;  and  about  two  hours  before  sunset,  we 
were  again  on  our  way.  The  route  was  stony  and  weari¬ 
some;  but  on  each  side  there  was  a  succession  of  rich  vine¬ 
yards,  olive  grounds,  and  large  plantations  of  figs,  mulberry, 
walnut,  apricot,  and  pomegranate  trees,  carefully  fenced  with 
high  stone  walls,  of  rough  but  solid  workmanship.  A  tower 
was  to  be  seen  in  each.  I  have  but.  little  hesitation  in  be¬ 
lieving,  that  hereabouts — perhaps  this  rich  and  still  luxuriant 
valley,  is  the  Eschol  of  Scripture,  whence  the  spies  brought 
back  with  them  to  Kadesh  the  rich  proofs  of  the  fruitfulness 
of  the  promised  land.J 

After  about  two  hours  and  a  half,  we  reached  a  wide,  open 
country,  flanked  by  bold  hills  on  either  side,  called  Ed-Dir- 
weh,  where  we  resolved  to  encamp  for  the  night.  There 

*  Genesis  xv.  5.  t  2  Samuel  iv.  12.  t  Numbers  xiii.  22 — 24. 


224 


MACHPELAH - JEWISH  PILGRIMS. 


was  an  abundant  fountain  near  at  hand,  which  kept  a  con¬ 
stant  supply  of  delicious  water  in  a  large  stone  trough,  at 
which  were  Arabs  watering  their  horses  and  camels.  While 
getting  ready  for  encamping,  we  explored  a  considerable  ruin 
having  somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  Christian  Church, 
standing  but  a  little  distance  from  the  fountain  ;  and  thence 
we  went  to  examine  some  sepulchral  excavations  made  in  the 
face  of  a  rock,  which  had  been  cut  down  perpendicularly. 
The  situation  of  the  rock  was  at  the  end  of  the  plain  or  field 
in  which  we  halted,  nearest  to  Hebron.  The  excavations 
consist  of  chambers  (after  the  manner  of  Egyptian  tombs), 
of  about  twelve  feet  square  in  which  are  still  sarcophagi  of 
hewn  stone.  Not  having  been  disposed  to  give  too  great 
credence  to  the  Mahommedan  claim  to  possess  the  burial- 
place  of  Abraham  and  his  family,  under  the  walls  of  the 
great  mosque  in  the  present  city  of  Hebron,  the  thought  oc¬ 
curred  to  our  minds,  that  after  all,  this  spot  might  have  been 
the  very  field  which  Abraham  bought  as  a  burial-place  of 
Ephron  the  Hittite.  This  field  is  described  as  being,  not  in 
Hebron,  but  in  Machpelah  before  Mamre,*  and  the  cave  is 
said  to  be  at  the  end  of  the  field.  Though  the  Empress  He¬ 
lena  built  a  Christian  church  over  the  spot  then  said  to  be 
the  place  of  patriarchal  sepulture ;  and  though  the  mosque 
of  Hebron  now  occupies  the  site  of  that  church — yet  I  do  not 
see  any  thing  conclusive  on  the  subject,  arising  from  such 
circumstances.  Whether  or  not  Ed-Dirweh  is  the  field  in 
question,  certainly  the  tombs  are  very  curious,  and  probably 
of  patriarchal  antiquity. 

While  preparing  for  our  journey  early  on  the  following 
morning,  a  party  of  Jewish  pilgrims  were  wending  their  way 
towards  the  Holy  City,  and  passed  our  encampment.  Some 
were  on  foot,  some  mounted  on  asses,  and  all  appeared  mise¬ 
rably  poor.  It  was  a  stirring  sight,  to  see  these  aliens  from 
their  own  birthright,  seeking  the  hallowed  spot  for  which  the 
Jewish  heart  sighs  and  pines.  We  exchanged  salutations 
with  them  as  they  passed  ;  and  at  a  little  before  seven  o’clock 

*  See  Genesis  xxiii.  9, 17,  19. 


ROAD  TO  BETHLEHEM. 


225 


were  on  our  march.  Our  next  resting  place  was  to  be,  not  in 
tents  by  the  weary  wayside,  but  in  Bethlehem,  the  city  of 
David — not  the  least  among  the  princes  of  Judah,  though 
little  among  its  thousands ;  the  birthplace  of  the  Son  of  God. 
the  ruler  in  Israel,  whose  goings  forth  have  been  of  old,  from 
everlasting.*  The  prospect  of  reaching  Bethlehem  on  that 
day,  checked  almost  every  thought  and  feeling  but  that  of 
gratitude  and  adoring  love  to  my  heavenly  Father,  who  had 
mercifully  brought  me  on  thus  far. 

The  hills,  as  we  passed  along  between  them,  bore  evident 
and  abundant  traces  of  ancient  fruitfulness,  having  been  cut 
in  terraces,  on  which  a  suitable  depth  of  soil  was  gathered 
with  great  labor,  where  vines  and  olives  had  been  cultivated 
— apparently  up  to  the  very  summits  of  the  hills.  On  either 
side  was  a  slender  pasturage  for  cattle,  and  fields  with  scanty 
crops  of  wheat  and  barley,  interspersed  with  clumps  of  the 
prickly  oak  and  other  shrubs.  In  some  parts,  the  fields  were 
giving  up  their  slight  produce  to  the  husbandmen ;  and  I 
could  but  think  that  in  some  such  scene  as  this,  in  the  neigh¬ 
borhood  of  Bethlehem,  and  at  such  a  season  of  the  year,  the 
sweet  spirit  of  the  tender-hearted  Ruth  found  favor  in  the 
sight  of  Boaz,  when  he  said  “  Hearest  thou  not  my  daughter  ; 
Go  not  to  glean  in  another  field,  neither  go  from  hence,  but 
abide  here  fast  by  my  maidens.”!  Never  was  a  more  touch¬ 
ing  story  of  its  kind,  than  that  of  Ruth ;  and  in  this  place  I 
felt  the  loveliness  of  it. 

Passing  the  pools  of  Solomon,  without  staying  to  make  any 
very  careful  examination  of  them,  we  pursued  our  way  over  a 
rugged  road,  shut  in  on  both  sides  by  hills,  sometimes  quite 
bare,  and  at  others  covered  with  low  prickly  shrubs  and  slen¬ 
der  herbage,  when  at  length,  an  abrupt  bending  of  the  pass 
gave  us  the  first  distant  glimpse  of  the  object  of  our  desire — 
Bethlehem,!  which  soon,  however,  disappeared  in  the  wind¬ 
ings  of  our  toilsome  path.  We  passed  on  slowly  till  the 
country  fairly  opened  before  us;  and,  crossing  a  somewha 

*  Micah  v.  2.  Matthew  ii.  6.  +  Ruth  ii.  8. 

X  The  Arab  name  is  Eeit-Lahm. 


226 


BETHLEHEM. 


level  plain,  began  to  ascend  the  rocky  path  by  which  the 
elevated  site  of  Belhlehem  is  approached ;  and,  looking  back 
and  around  me,  it  was  delightful  to  think  that  over  these  hills 
and  plains  of  his  birthplace,  the  royal  shepherd  boy  of  Israel, 
the  princely  David,  had  wandered  with  his  flocks,  and  that 
with  every  peak  and  slope  his  eye  had  been  familiar. 

The  city  occupies  a  commanding  position,  on  the  northern 
brow  of  a  hill  looking  over  towards  the  region  of  Moab.  The 
substance  of  the  hill  is  limestone,  and  it  is  terraced  in  all 
directions,  and  planted  with  fine  healthy  olive  and  fig  trees. 
The  aspect  of  Bethlehem  itself  is  poor.  Its  buildings  are  in 
the  usual  style,  square  and  rude,  and  finished  with  small 
domes.  The  winding  path  of  ascent  is  in  several  places  toil¬ 
some  and  difficult,  and  of  chalky  whiteness.  As  we  ap¬ 
proached  the  gate,  we  met  several  of  the  women  of  Bethle¬ 
hem  coming  out  to  the  well,*  bearing  their  earthen  vessels  on 
their  heads,  to  draw  water.  Their  complexions  were  almost 
like  those  of  Europeans,  when  contrasted  with  sunburnt 
Egyptians  and  Arabs,  with  whom  we  had  been  so  long 
familiarized  ;  and  their  figures  were  easy  and  graceful,  as 
their  flowing  drapery  cast  its  long  folds  about  them.  It  is  a 
saddening  thought,  while  entering  within  the  walls  of  Bethle 
hem,  that  the  crescent  of  Mahomet  gleams  over  the  spot  wher$ 
the  wondrous  star  announced  the  humbled  presence  of  the 
incarnate  God  ;  and  that  Christianity  is  there  but  a  tolerated, 
a  permitted,  a  despised  thing.  The  greater  proportion,  how¬ 
ever,  of  the  present  population  of  Bethlehem  are  nominally 
Christian.f  Oh  !  that  a  pure  Protestant  faith  could  be  there 

*  The  situation  of  the  present  well  of  Bethlehem  seems  to  accord  with 
the  description  in  1  Chron.  xi.  17,  of  that  well  from  which  David  desired 
to  be  refreshed,  when,  weary  and  exhausted,  he  cried — “  Oh  that  one 
would  give  me  drink  of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  that  is  at  the 
gate.” 

t  It  is  not  a  little  singular,  that  this  circumstance  arose  from  the  act  of 
Ibrahim  Pasha,  a  Musselman.  The  hostilities,  which  a  few  years  since 
existed  between  him  and  the  Sultan,  led  to  a  partial  destruction  of  the  city, 
the  ruinous  traces  of  which  are  still  visible.  The  hardihood  of  the  Arabs 
induced  Ibrahim  to  treat  them  with  the  greatest  severity.  On  his  victo¬ 
rious  return,  after  driving  the  Sultan’s  forces  out  of  Syria — he  put  the 
Arab  population  to  flight  and  to  the  sword,  but  spared  the  Christians; 
because,  as  he  said,  they  had  been  guilty  of  no  offence. 


BETHLEHEM. 


227 


proclaimed  and  established ;  and  that  the  darkness  of  a  de¬ 
based  and  degrading  system  could  be  chased  away  forever. 

Having  set  our  feet  within  the  gate  of  this  venerated  city, 
we  pursued  our  way  along  the  main  street,  which  was  some* 
times  steep,  and  always  narrow,  gloomy,  and  dirty ;  and  as 
we  passed,  many  a  graceful  Syrian,  and  swarthy  Bedawee 
glanced  upon  us  with  an  air  of  curiosity  and  inquiry.  Every 
man  was  armed ;  and  such  is  now  the  case  throughout  Syria. 
Had  we  not  been  already  well  acquainted  with  such  things, 
the  appearance  of  the  inhabitants  of  Bethlehem  would  have 
been  startling  at  first.  We  soon  reached  the  Latin  Convent, 
which  was  to  be  our  place  of  abode  during  our  short  sojourn; 
for  here,  as  in  other  parts  of  Palestine,  for  want  of  more  suit¬ 
able  means  of  accommodation,  the  traveller  has  a  choice 
between  his  tent  and  the  walls  of  a  convent.  Of  the  two,  the 
latter  is  certainly  more  safe  and  quiet.  The  convent  occupies 
an  extreme  part  of  the  site  of  the  city,  towards  the  east ;  and 
is  said  to  have  been  erected  by  the  Empress  Helena,  over  the 
spot  on  which  our  blessed  Saviour  was  born  ;  she  having  pre¬ 
viously  swept  away  a  heathen  temple,  built  in  the  time  of 
Adrian,  in  contempt  of  Christianity.  Externally,  it  has  less 
the  appearance  of  an  ecclesiastical,  than  of  a  defensive  edifice. 
Its  bold  buttresses  and  small  grated  windows  betoken  a  great 
regard  to  general  security,  while  its  low  and  narrow  portal 
seems  intended  to  prevent  the  once  daring  custom  of  the 
Arabs,  of  riding  into  the  interior  of  religious  houses,  for  the 
purpose  of  violence  and  spoliation.  The  whole  structure  is 
of  extreme  solidity;  and  appears  capable  of  resisting  all  modes 
of  assault  short  of  a  vigorous  cannonade. 

On  our  arrival  we  were  shown  into  a  large  reception  room, 
well  lighted,  and  fitted  up  partly  after  the  oriental  manner, 
with  carpeted  dewans.  Two  or  three  monks,  of  the  Francis¬ 
can  order,  soon  made  their  appearance,  and  tendered  us  every 
courteous  civility;  and  it  was  not  long  ere  the  Superior  him¬ 
self  came  to  welcome  us  to  our  new  abode.  Shortly  after 
noon,  we  were  served  with  a  homely,  but  substantial  meal 
of  rice-soup,  boiled  meat,  an  omelet,  and  several  other  smal 


228 


BETHLEHEM. 


matters,  with  a  bottle  of  the  poor  sour  white  wine  of  Pales¬ 
tine,  compared  with  which,  the  sweet  water  of  the  well  ot 
Bethlehem  was  a  distinguished  luxury. 

Having  taken  our  refreshment,  we  were  conducted  by  om 
of  the  monks  to  the  roof  of  the  monastery,  in  order  to  enjoy 
the  extensive  view  which  it  affords  of  spots  endeared  to  the 
heart  of  the  Christian.  In  the  distance,  eastward,  are  the 
mountains  of  Moab  and  the  plains  of  Jordan;  while  south¬ 
ward,  stands  the  hill  of  Tekoah,  from  which  the  surrounding 
wilderness  is  said  to  take  its  name — familiar  as  the  scene  of 
the  pastoral  life  of  the  prophet  Amos.*  Beyond,  and  rather 
more  towards  the  east,  lies  the  wilderness  of  Engedi,  to  which 
David  retreated  for  the  purpose  of  concealing  himself  against 
the  pursuit  of  Saul,f  and  where  the  allied  army  of  the  Am¬ 
monites,  Moabites,  and  others  encamped,  when  they  came 
forth  against  Jehoshaphat  and  nearer  at  hand — a  little  more 
to  the  south,  is  seen  the  spot  which  tradition  has  assigned  as 
that  wherein  there  were  “shepherds  abiding  in  the  field,  keep¬ 
ing  watch  over  their  flock  by  night when  “  the  angel  of 
the  Lord  came  upon  them,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone 
round  about  them,  and  they  were  sore  afraid.  And  the  angel 
said  unto  them,  fear  not :  for  behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings 
of  great  joy  which  shall  be  to  all  people.”  Many  of  the  sur¬ 
rounding  hills  are  thinly  clothed  with  fig  and  olive  trees,  and 
here  and  there  were  traces  of  corn-growth,  among  which  the 
husbandmen  were  employed  in  gathering  the  small  bounty 
of  God.  At  the  more  distant  parts  of  the  picture,  a  brown 
and  sterile  appearance  pervaded  the  surface  both  of  hill  and 
plain,  betokening  that  the  hand  of  God  was  withdrawn,  for  a 
season,  from  that  once  luxuriantly"  productive  soil.  The  in¬ 
tense  heat  and  glare  ot  the  sun  soon  induced  us  to  make  our 
retreat  to  the  interior,  where  we  spent  a  short  time  in  visiting 
the  church,  and  the  spots  which  have  been  assigned  as  scenes 
of  the  most  august  transactions  of  gospel  history. 

The  church— supposed  to  be  as  ancient  as  the  early  part  of 
the  fourth  century,  is  solid  and  spacious,  supported  on  columns 

*  Amos,  i.  1.  f  1  Samuel,  xxiii.  29.  j  2  Chronicles,  xx.  2. 


BETHLEHEM - CHAPEL  OF  THE  NATIVITY,  ETC.  229 

of  granite.  And  though  the  convent  and  church  properly  be¬ 
long  to  the  Latins,  yet  Greeks  and  Armenians  have  separate 
portions  of  both  allotted  for  their  use.  On  the  ground  floor 
of  the  church,  there  are  but  few  objects  of  curiosity,  excep 
some  paintings  of  Scripture  subjects,  rude  and  apparently  very 
ancient.  It  is  the  church  underground  which  absorbs  all  in¬ 
terest — especially  in  minds  possessing  credulity  enough  to 
find  the  actual  place  of  the  nativity  amidst  the  paintings  and 
gildings  and  lamps  by  which  a  superstitious  enthusiasm  has 
disguised  the  humble  realities  which  it  professes  to  venerate. 
When  preparing  to  descend,  we  each  received  a  small  lighted 
wax  taper,  the  approach  being  by  a  dark  and  narrow  stair, 
cut,  like  the  under  chapel  itself,  in  the  rock.  This  crypt  is 
not  much  more  than  thirty  feet  in  length  and  twelve  in 
breadth,  and  receives  no  light  from  without,  but  is  illuminated 
by  a  great  number  of  splendid  lamps,  presented  by  various 
princes  of  Christendom.  The  alleged  scene  of  the  nativity 
of  the  Redeemer  is  designated  by  a  tawdry  altar  ;  and,  sur¬ 
rounded  by  burning  lamps,  is  a  circle  of  marble  and  mosaic 
work,  with  a  border  of  silver,  indicating  the  precise  spot  in 
which  God  stood  forth  manifest  in  human  flesh.  The  silver 
plate  has  the  following  inscription  : — 

Hie  de  Virgine  Maria  Jesus  Christus  natus  est .” 

Shall  I  continue  this  description  ? — or  shall  I  declare,  how 
sadly  these  mere  toys  of  popery  interfered  with  the  solemn 
feelings  I  had  desired  to  cherish  in  a  place,  which,  with  proba¬ 
bility  enough,  may  be  looked  upon  as  connected  with  the 
wondrous  work  of  our  redemption  ? 

Near  the  altar  of  the  nativity,  is  exhibited  a  kind  of  trough, 
formed  in  marble,  and  elevated  about  a  foot  and  a  half  from 
the  floor ;  and  this  is  spoken  of  as  the  manger  in  which  the 
infant  Jesus  was  laid,  because  there  was  no  room  for  him  in 
the  inn.  In  a  recess,  opposite,  is  the  place  where  it  is  said  the 
wise  men  of  the  east  sat,  when  they  came  to  worship ;  and  in 
another,  is  an  altar  representing  the  table  on  which  they  of¬ 
fered  their  gifts.  Descending  still  further,  by  a  winding  pas- 

29 


230  BETHLEHEM - CHAPEL  OF  THE  NATIVITY,  ETC. 

sage  of  some  length,  we  next  arrived  at  a  spot,  shown  as  that 
in  which  Herod  caused  the  children  of  Bethlehem  to  be 
massacred  ;  and  beyond  it  a  cave  in  which  Jerome  is  said  to 
have  made  his  Latin  translation  of  the  Bible.  A  brief  stay 
was  sufficient  for  me  ;  feeling,  as  I  did,  that  the  inward  con¬ 
templation  of  sacred  localities,  was  far  more  profitable  and  de¬ 
lightful,  than  the  most  ingenious  devices  of  popery,  to  render 
them  meretriciously  attractive.  The  tendency  of  man’s  natu¬ 
ral  heart,  is  to  walk  by  sight  rather  than  by  faith  ;  and  to  this 
corrupt  tendency,  the  Church  of  Rome  ministers  in  all  her 
externals.  Faith  says — I  know  that  Jesus,  the  eternal  Son  of 
God,  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  for  the  word  of  truth  declares 
it — and  this  is  Bethlehem.  “  True,”  says  the  Church  of 
Rome  ;  “  but,  lest  your  faith  should  falter,  look  here,  look 
there — here  is  the  exact  spot  of  the  nativity,  marked  by  a 
silver  plate,  and  a  Latin  asseveration — there  is  the  real 
manger,  in  which  the  mighty  babe  reposed.”  Now,  to  my 
mind,  all  these  things  suggest  an  idea  of  littleness,  utterly  be¬ 
neath  the  regard  of  simple  Christian  faith,  which  walks  forth 
on  the  sacred  site  of  Bethlehem,  and,  expanding  itself  in  the 
serene  atmosphere  of  revelation,  apart  from  the  dreamings  of 
mere  superstition,  and  surveying  the  whole  precincts  of  the 
now  humbled  city  of  David,  inwardly  affirms — here,  on  this 
rock,  the  noble  current  of  prophecy  overspread  its  borders  ; 
and — bursting  into  a  stream  of  mercy,  poured  forth  its  waters 
of  life  through  the  Child  of  Mary. 

A  ceremony  connected  with  the  midnight  mass  of  the 
Romish  church  at  Christmas,  as  performed  in  the  grotto  of  the 
nativity,  is  thus  described  by  a  member  of  that  church* — “  At 
midnight,  at  the  hour  of  salvation,  when,  in  all  the  Catholic 
churches  in  the  world,  the  infant  Jesus  receives  the  homage 
of  all  faithful  Christians,  the  reverend  father  warden  opens 
the  procession,  and  advances  with  slow  step,  his  head  bowed, 
and  reverentially  carrying  in  his  arms  the  infant  Jesus”  [or 
as  we  should  say,  the  idolatrous  representation  of  him].  “  On 
reaching  the  very  spot  of  the  nativity,  the  deacon,  with  deep 


*  Baron  Geramb. 


BETHLEHEM,  ETC. 


231 


devotion,  chants  the  gospel.  When  he  comes  to  the  words 
‘and  wrapped  him  in  swaddling  clothes/  he  receives  the  in 
fant  from  the  hands  of  the  father  warden,  wraps  him  in 
swaddling  clothes,  lays  him  in  the  manger,  falls  on  his  knees 
and  worships” — [what? — we  ask],  “At  that  moment,”  con¬ 
tinues  the  Romish  narrator,  “  there  flashes  into  the  soul,  some¬ 
thing  supernatural,  I  may  venture  to  call  it,  judging  from 
what  I  have  witnessed — from  what  I  myself  have  felt.  Piety 
ceases  to  find  a  voice  to  express  its  gratitude,  its  love — it 
speaks  only  in  the  melting  language  of  the  eyes,  in  sighs  and 
tears.” 

This  is  sheer  popery.  Those  who  know  what  it  is  to  live 
in  the  habitual  exercise  of  a  kind  and  degree  of  piety  which 
results  from  a  “  something  supernatural,”  already  infused  into 
the  soul  by  the  sanctifying  influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
and  whose  every  day  existence  is  an  exemplification  of  the 
power  of  faith,  which  depends  not  on  the  stimulation  of  the 
senses  by  merely  visible  objects  of  human  construction,  will 
smile  with  pitying  concern,  at  that  morbid  piety  which  displays 
itself  in  tears  and  sighs,  amidst  the  childish  stage-play  of  such 
a  scene  as  this.  If  there  be  anything  more  especially  calling 
for  jealous  watchfulness,  in  these  days  of  heresy  and  inno¬ 
vation,  it  is  the  tendency  to  prop  up  a  weak  faith,  and  to  gen¬ 
erate  a  mawkish  sensitiveness  on  spiritual  subjects,  by  exter¬ 
nals — be  they  images,  symbols,  or  ceremonies  only. 

Our  day  at  Bethlehem  passed  most  happily ;  but  I  was 
glad  to  retire  early — to  a  coarse  bed,  provided  for  me  in  a  small 
whitewashed  cell,  which  doubtless  had  been  the  abode  of 
many  a  previous  pilgrim,  overlooking  the  convent  garden 
planted  with  orange  and  lemon  trees  in  full  fruit.  Perhaps 
I  enjoyed  my  rude  comforts  the  more,  because  I  had  been  so 
long  an  absentee  from  regular  beds  and  stone  walls.  Ought 
I  not  to  be  content,  and  more  than  that,  thought  I,  when  I  re¬ 
flect,  that  here  the  child  Jesus — my  Redeemer,  found  no  room 
for  his  reception  ;  and  that  in  the  days  of  his  mature  and  ma¬ 
jestic  manhood,  he  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.  Many  a 
solemn  thought  and  deep  feeling  occupied  my  mind,  while 


232 


BETHLEHEM - VILLAGE  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS. 


surveying  the  hallowed  scene  of  the  nativity ;  but  it  was 
when  the  stillness  of  midnight  hung  around  me — when  the 
inmates  of  the  convent  were  silent,  and  all  Bethlehem  hushed 
in  repose,  that  my  heart  acknowledged  its  serene  and  grateful 
assurance,  that  I,  a  poor  helpless  sinner — so  far  from  home — 
a  brief  sojourner  in  one  of  the  holiest  spots  of  the  whole 
earth,  derived  all  my  safety  and  comfort,  and  all  my  grounded 
hope  of  future  and  eternal  blessing  from  Him — who  here 
condescended  to  take  my  nature  into  marvellous  and  myste¬ 
rious  unition  with  his  Godhead,  that  he  might  sympathize  in 
its  wants  and  its  infirmities,  and  glorify  it  by  his  triumphs. 

To  the  east  of  Bethlehem — not  much  more  than  a  mile 
and  a  half  distant,  is  the  village  traditionally  said  to  be  that 
in  which  the  shepherds  dwelt,  to  whom  was  made  the  super¬ 
natural  announcement  of  Messiah’s  birth.  You  approach  it 
by  a  steep  descending  road,  with  fig  and  olive  trees  scattered 
on  every  side.  The  soil  is  very  white  and  chalky.  It  is  in¬ 
habited  by  Greek  and  Latin  Christians.  It  is  miserably  di¬ 
lapidated,  and  conveys  an  idea  of  poverty  and  wretchedness. 
Many  of  its  inhabitants  were  engaged  in  threshing  and  win¬ 
nowing  of  corn. 

Passing  downwards  from  the  village,  a  view  presented  itself 
of  the  spot,  which  we  had  previously  seen  from  the  roof  of 
the  convent,  where  it  is  said  the  shepherds  heard  that  heaven¬ 
ly  minstrelsy  which  still  sounds  forth  sweetly  from  the  pages 
of  inspiration.*  It  is  carefully  enclosed  with  a  rough  stone 

*  I  cannot  help  quoting  one  of  the  sweetest  sacred  lyrics  of  modem 
days,  on  this  subject: — - 

There’s  music  in  the  heav’n  amid  the  stillness  of  the  night, 

While  shepherds  are  abiding  yet,  to  watch  their  fleecy  care; 

The  clouds  are  rolling  rapidly,  and  in  the  bursting  light, 

To  golden  harps  are  carolling  the  angels  bright  and  fair. 

Oh  !  listen  to  the  choral  song,  which  hails  a  Saviour’s  birth, 

That  tills  those  humble  watchers’  hearts  with  wonder  and  with  love, 

“  Good  tidings  of  great  joyfulness  to  all  who  dwell  on  earth, 

And  glory  in  the  highest  be,  to  God  enthron’d  above !” 

The  world  that  had  been  travailing  so  long  in  pain  and  woe, 

Hath  heard  amidst  its  guilty  fears  a  voice  which  soothes  to  rest; 

And  God  the  Father’s  gracious  face,  with  cloud  obscured  till  now, 

Shines  through  the  image  of  His  Son,  the  blessing  and  the  blest. 


VILLAGE  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS - BETHLEHEM,  ETC.  333 

wall,  and  covered  with  numerous  olive  trees  of  vigorous  growth 
and  considerable  age.  In  the  midst  of  the  enclosure  is  a  small 
grotto  chapel,  to  which  we  obtained  admission.  It  contains  a 
rude  altar,  and  the  usual  pictorial  appendages.  The  almost 
level  ridge,  in  the  distance  eastward,  is  that  of  the  mountains 
of  Moab  ;  between  which  and  the  nearer  elevations,  lies  the 
Dead  sea,  whose  waters  are  not  visible  from  hence.  This  in¬ 
teresting  spot  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Greek  church, 
though  once  it  belonged  to  the  Latins.  In  consequence  of  the 
change,  the  latter  are  beginning  to  claim  some  other  as  the 
actual  and  real  scene  of  the  angelic  announcement.  Alas  for 
Rome  !  She  generally  endeavors  to  prove  too  much,  and  of¬ 
ten  overshoots  her  mark. 

I  am  much  inclined  to  think,  on  a  general  survey  of  the 
particular  spot  above  described,  that  it  may  be  really  the  place 
in  which  the  shepherds  kept  watch  by  night.  Of  course 
there  has  been  great  change  in  the  surface  of  the  surrounding 
country  in  the  course  of  upwards  of  eighteen  centuries ;  but 
at  present,  this  is  certainly  the  most  pastoral  looking  plain  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Bethlehem;  and  the  character  of  its  soil 
gave  me  reason  to  believe  that  such  was  its  ancient  character. 
I  am  less  disposed  than  some  travellers  have  been,  to  question 
the  truth  of  traditions  in  reference  to  sacred  localities,  except 
where,  as  in  the  grotto  of  the  nativity,  and  elsewhere  as  I  may 
have  occasion  to  mention,  there  is  an  evident  attempt  to  prove 
too  much. 

After  a  hasty  examination  of  Bethlehem,  as  to  its  interior, 
I  have  little  to  record  beyond  the  fact  of  its  presenting  a  sad 
picture  of  filth,  poverty,  and  ruinous  desolation,  for  which  I 
apprehend  there  is  no  help,  while  it  continues  to  sigh  under 
the  grasp  of  Mahommedan  domination.  And  all  this  sad  re¬ 
ality  is  easily  traceable  to  one  sole  cause — Israel’s  rejection  of 
Messiah.  Had  Israel  held  fast  to  their  integrity — where 

With  the  music  of  the  angels  be  the  music  of  my  heart, 

And  let  the  Shepherds’  gratitude  my  ev’ry  power  inflame; 

And  with  the  anthems  of  the  church,  my  soul,  bear  thou  thy  part. 

For  all  the  mercies  shown  to  thee  in  Christ’s  redeeming  name. 

The  Rev.  T.  J.  Judkin. 


20* 


234 


BETHLEHEM - COSTUME,  ETC. 


is  the  spot  on  which  the  foot  of  the  infidel  could  ha.  e  fixed 
itself  securely — where  is  the  mountain,  where  the  valley, 
from  Dan  even  to  Beersheba,  from  which  there  shcv.ld  not 
even  now  be  going  forth  the  joyous  song  of  exultation  at  the 
glorious  triumphs  of  redemption,  in  which  the  voices  of  the 
thousands  of  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth  and  Jerusalem  would 
be  heard  bearing  their  distinguished  part  ?  But  there  is  a 
day  coming  (is  it  far  distant  ?)  when  the  glory  so  long  depart¬ 
ed  from  Judea  shall  return  with  renewed  lustre,  and  gathered 
Israel  shall  chant  forth  the  promised  anthem  for  which  the 
church  waits,  “  Blessed  be  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord.” 

The  usual  dress  of  both  males  and  females  is,  I  should  sup¬ 
pose,  very  much,  if  not  quite,  like  that  in  use  from  the  earli¬ 
est  ages.  It  is  what  I  have  seen  in  the  most  ancient  pictures 
of  Scripture  subjects.  The  female  costume  is  full  and  flow¬ 
ing,  and  commonly  of  red  or  blue ;  while  that  of  the  men  of 
Bethlehem  and  its  neighborhood — and  I  may  say  of  Palestine 
generally,  consists  of  a  linen  tunic,  which  leaves  th )  neck, 
arms,  and  legs  bare,  and  is  bound  round  the  loins  with  a 
leathern  girdle.  Those  who  can  afford  it,  have,  in  &  ldition, 
a  full  cloak  or  mantle.  They  all  wear  turbans.  Eve?  y  thing 
I  saw  had  the  effect  of  carrying  my  mind  quite  back  to  the 
period  with  which  the  Scriptures  render  us  so  familiar  And 
in  many  a  sunburnt  and  graceful  shepherd  youth-  -as  we 
passed  along,  imagination  might  almost  picture  the  lintuments 
of  the  once  humble,  but  ennobled  stripling  son  of  Jesse  the 
Bethlehemite. 

The  population  of  Bethlehem  appear  to  spend  their  days 
in  listless  indolence,  with  the  exception  of  the  women,  who  I 
am  informed,  are  the  merest  drudges  and  slaves  of  their  hus¬ 
bands.  The.  usual  stimulants  to  industry  are  miserably  with¬ 
held  throughout  Palestine  ;  for  no  man  is  permitted  to  realize 
an  independence  for  himself  and  his  family  ;  but  every  thing 
he  may  acquire,  beyond  the  means  of  a  bare  and  scanty  sub¬ 
sistence,  is  only  an  object  to  excite  the  cupidity  of  the  wretch¬ 
ed  despotism  under  which  the  poor  people  exist,  and  are  gv-’-rA 


DEPARTURE  FROM  BETHLEHEM. 


235 


down  to  the  dust.  The  people  of  England,  methinks,  might 
learn  a  valuable  lesson  of  contentment  and  gratitude  to  Al¬ 
mighty  God,  for  the  government  under  which  they  live,  and 
the  privileges  they  enjoy,  if  they  could  but  once  see  and  feel 
the  condition  of  the  degraded  and  enslaved  population  of  Pal¬ 
estine.  Alas !  till  the  “  restitution  of  all  things,”  Palestine 
and  its  thousands  must  groan  hopelessly  under  the  hand  of 
the  oppressor. 

The  time  for  our  departure  from  Bethlehem  drew  near. 
When  all  things  were  made  ready,  we  bade  farewell  to  our 
kindly  monks,  left  a  suitable  gratuity  for  the  hospitality  we 
had  received,  and  soon  stood  again  at  the  narrow  portal  of  the 
convent,  surrounded  by  a  large  number  of  Bethlehemites, 
who  had  brought  for  sale  to  the  pilgrims,  as  they  no  doubt 
accounted  us,  rosaries  made  of  the  olive  tree,  crosses  and 
carvings  of  the  Virgin  and  Child,  and  other  popish  toys  and 
trinkets  formed  of  mother-o’-pearl,  by  the  manufacture  of 
which,  I  imagine  many  of  the  people  obtain  a  scanty  subsist¬ 
ence.  It  was  difficult  to  rid  ourselves  of  their  importunity ; 
and  I  dare  say  our  indifference  to  their  merchandize,  made 
them  set  us  down  in  their  estimation  as  very  bad  catholics ,  af¬ 
ter  all. 

It  was  an  absorbing  train  of  thought  which  took  possession 
of  my  mind  as  I  mounted  for  my  journey.  Many  a  weary 
mile  had  I  travelled  under  the  burning  sun  of  Africa,  and 
amidst  the  dreary  desolation  of  the  trackless  Deserts  of  Arabia 

_ since  I  bade  farewell  to  my  dear  family  and  my  beloved 

flock ;  and  now,  thought  I,  with  a  grateful  adoring  recollec¬ 
tion  of  mercies  innumerable,  and  a  hope  too  strong  for  utter¬ 
ance — now — in  a  brief  space — before  yonder  sun  shall  sink 
to  his  western  home — “Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates, 
O  Jerusalem .”  And,  again,  I  mused  upon  the  gracious  pro¬ 
mise  with  which  my  journey  commenced — “  As  one  whom 
his  mother  comforteth,  so  will  I  comfort  you  ;  and  ye  shall  be 
comforted  in  Jerusalem.”*  Comfort,  great  and  lasting,  had  I 
enjoyed  during  every  step  of  my  way  ;  and  l  looked  forward 

*  See  incident  in  page  11. 


236 


TOMB  OF  RACHEL. 


with  full  assurance  of  comfort  yet  to  come.  Blessed,  forever 
blessed,  be  my  heavenly  Father,  He  has  abundantly  proved 
his  faithfulness. 

Farewell  to  Bethlehem  ;  but  not  to  its  hallowed  associa¬ 
tions  ;  they  are  engraven  on  my  heart. 

Passing  slowly  along  the  narrow  streets,  amidst  the  crowded 
population  who  seemed  to  be  all  abroad,  we  made  our  exit 
by  the  gate  at  which  we  had  entered ;  and  our  route  lay,  for 
some  time,  down  a  winding  and  terraced  road  of  steep  de¬ 
clivity,  which  helped  us  to  obtain  an  accurate  idea  of  the 
noble  and  commanding  position  of  the  august  city  we  were 
quitting.  Fig  and  olive  plantations,  in  great  luxuriance, 
hung  on  every  part  of  the  hill  slopes ;  and,  bathed  in  warm 
sunlight,  presented  a  lovely  picture.  Having  mastered  this 
part  of  our  way,  we  turned  nearly  northward,  and  entered 
upon  a  more  level  but  extremely  rugged  mule  and  camel 
path,  between  the  stone  walls  of  fig  and  olive  groves.  On 
reaching  higher  ground,  we  were  enabled  here  and  there,  east¬ 
ward,  to  catch  glimpses  of  the  Dead  Sea,  shut  in  by  the 
mountains  of  Moab.  In  that  direction  all  appeared  arid, 
brown  and  barren.  For  some  distance  the  road  is  a  continu¬ 
ous  ascent.  When  distant  about  half  an  hour  from  Bethle¬ 
hem,  the  traveller  inquires,  “  What  is  yonder  square  white¬ 
washed  building  of  Turkish  structure,  surmounted  by  a  dome, 
and  occupying  its  position  on  the  left,  not  far  from  the  main 
way  ?”  The  answer  is  ready  : — ■“  It  is  the  tomb  of  Rachel — 
the  f  Mother  of  Israel.’”  It  maybe  so,  though  the  present 
building  is  evidently  modern,  and  Mahommedan.  The 
Turks  can  have  no  motive  for  palming  an  error  upon  us  on 
this  subject.  That  the  place  of  Rachel’s  interment  is  not  far 
from  thence,  is  quite  clear  ;  for  we  read — “  And  they  jour¬ 
neyed  from  Bethel,  and  there  was  but  little  way  to  come  to 

Ephrath . And  Rachel  died,  and  was  buried  in  the 

way  to  Ephrath,  which  is  Bethlehem.  And  Jacob  set  a 
pillar  upon  her  grave  ;  that  is  the  pillar  of  Rachel’s  grave 
unto  this  day.”*  I  dwell  not  on  the  other  objects,  for  the 

*  Gen.  xxxv.  16 — 20.  How  tender  is  the  recollection  of  this  fact  as 


FIRST  VIEW  OF  JERUSALEM. 


237 


identity  of  which  there  is  not  the  slightest  proof — such  as  the 
impression  in  the  rock,  occasioned,  as  the  superstitions  say, 
by  the  body  of  Elijah  as  he  slept  here,  when  fleeing  from 
Jezebel;  the  fountain  of  the  star,  and  the  abodes  of  Simeon 
and  the  prophet  Habakkuk,  now  in  ruins — but  I  press  on¬ 
wards  beyond  the  convent  of  Mar  Elias  on  the  right,  up  the 
rugged  pass  to  an  elevated  spot,  midway,  or  nearly  so,  be¬ 
tween-  Bethlehem  and  the  Holy  City — from  whence,  as 
during  all  the  previous  ascent,  the  view  of  Bethlehem — its 
fine  position,  and  its  surrounding  territory,  is  charming  and 
exciting.  While  frequently  looking  back,  I  could  but 
cherish  a  frequent  recurrence  of  the  reflection,  that  to  the 
marvellous  transaction  of  which  that  ancient  city  was  the 
honored  scene — the  lines  of  prophecy  had  all  been  tending, 
from  the  moment  in  which  Jehovah  declared  that  the  seed  of 
the  woman  should  bruise  the  serpent’s  head  ;  and  then,  while 
looking  northwards,  I  inquired — “  What  is  yonder  dark,  low 
ridge  of  building,  in  the  distance  ?”  and  was  told  that  my 
eyes  were  then  resting  on  the  Holy  City — Jerusalem — I  felt 
it  wTas,  indeed,  something  worth  toiling  and  travelling  for,  to 
have  behind  me  and  before  me  the  two  most  venerable  spots 
in  the  whole  world — the  one  in  which  the  u  seed  of  the  wo¬ 
man” — God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  stood  forth  girt  about  with 
the  weapons  of  a  terrible  warfare  ;  and  the  other,  where,  in 
the  might  of  redemption,  he  bruised  the  serpent’s  head  ;  and 
in  dying,  abolished  death,  and  brought  life  and  immortality 
to  light  by  the  gospel.  As  I  gazed  upon  both,  I  feit — oh 
how  deeply !  the  faithfulness  of  God,  who  had  thus  realized 
in  Christ,  and  brought  to  a  full  fruition,  the  first  hope  of 
rescue  and  restoration  that  ever  gleamed  upon  a  sin-bound 
and  apostate  world. 

Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  !  My  eyes  were  indeed  resting  on 
its  dim  and  distant  reality.  I  can  see  the  Holy  City  now — • 
how  distinctly  !  I  had  no  emotions — none  of  those  over- 

uttered  by  Jacob,  when  his  own  days  were  waning.  t-As  for  me,  when  I 
came  from  Padan,  Rachel  died  by  me  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  in  the  way, 
when  yet  there  was  but  a  little  way  to  come  unto  Ephrath  ;  and  I  buried 
her  there,  in  the  way  of  Ephrath:  the  same  is  Bethlehem.”  Gen.  xlviii.7. 


238 


JERUSALEM. 


whelming  gushings  of  the  heart,  which  more  enthusiastic 
travellers  have  experienced.  If  I  recall  my  sensations  right 
ly,  they  partook  more  than  any  thing  else,  of  a  calm,  peace¬ 
ful,  and  adoring  assurance  that  what  God  had  promised  for 
me  in  Eden,  when  the  first  Adam  stood  guilty  and  con¬ 
founded  before  him — he  had  really  fulfilled  for  me — there — 
in  that  sacred  spot  which  lay  before  me — in  the  person  of  the 
second  Adam — the  Lord  from  Heaven.  And  though  time 
may  deaden,  and  sorrow  may  darken  the  retrospective  visions 
of  the  soul  as  to  all  other  things,  yet  nothing  short  of  an 
oblivious  quenching  of  the  powers  of  memory,  will  erase  the 
recollections  of  that  moment,  and  that  scene.  And  now, 
while  standing  on  the  ground  of  hope  which  belongs  to  the 
whole  “  Israel  of  God” — in  Christ,  I  can  take  up  the  song, 
in  the  house  of  my  pilgrimage,  and  say 

“Jerusalem!  my  happy  home, 

Name  ever  dear  to  me ; 

When  shall  my  labors  have  an  end, 

In  joy,  in  peace,  in  thee  V’ 

I  remember  how,  after  a  brief  pause,  we  rode  on  in  silence 
— a  silence  in  itself  affecting.  It  was  a  time  in  which  no 
man  would  intrude  upon  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  another. 
Even  our  attendant  Arabs  were  silent.  The  tide  of  sacred 
history  flowed  massively  through  my  mind ;  and  its  events, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  with  all  their  grandeur  and 
magnificence,  seemed  to  pass  before  me  with  a  wonderful 
sense  of  reality.  I  had  journeyed  onwards  from  the  scene 
of  Israel’s  bondage  and  deliverance,  to  the  spot  where  a  more 
terrible  captivity  was  destroyed,  and  a  nobler  deliverance 
achieved.  I  had  traversed  some  of  the  scenes  of  Israel’s 
wanderings,  and  I  now  stood  in  the  scenes  of  their  glory  and 
greatness — of  their  shame  and  their  nothingness — yet,  still  in 
the  spot  where  One,  more  glorious  than  Solomon  and  mightier 
than  David,  shall  restore  the  lost  lustre  of  Israel,  and  o-ather 
m  their  thousands,  with  the  rest  of  a  redeemed  people,  from 
the  four  winds  of  heaven — when  that  shall  have  received  its 
full  accomplishment  which  is  spoken  by  the  holy  prophet : — 


PROGRESS  TOWARDS  JERUSALEM. 


239 


“And  it  shall  come  to  pass  in  the  last  days,  that  the  mountain 
of  the  Lord’s  house  shall  be  established  in  the  top  of  the 
mountains,  and  shall  be  exalted  above  the  hills ;  and  all 
nations  shall  flow  unto  it.  And  many  people  shall  go  and 
say,  Come  ye  and  let  us  go  up  to  the  mountain  of  the 
Lord,  to  the  house  of  the  God  of  Jacob :  and  he  will  teach  us 
of  his  ways,  and  we  will  walk  in  his  paths:  for  out  of  Zion 
shall  go  forth  the  law,  and  the  word  of  the  Lord  from  Jerusa¬ 
lem  — and  when  shall  be  made  good  to  Israel  the  precious 
promise — “  Behold  I  will  bring  it  [Jerusalem]  health  and 
cure,  and  I  will  cure  them,. and  1  will  reveal  unto  them  the 
abundance  of  peace  and  truth.  And  I  will  cause  the  captivity 
of  Judah  and  the  captivity  of  Israel  to  return,  and  will  build 
them  as  at  the  first.  And  I  will  cleanse  them  from  all  their 
iniquity,  whereby  they  have  sinned  against  me ;  and  I  will 
pardon  all  their  iniquities,  whereby  they  have  sinned,  and 
whereby  they  have  transgressed  against  me.  And  it  shall  be 
to  me  a  name  of  joy,  a  praise  and  an  honor  before  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth,  which  shall  hear  all  the  good  that  I  do 
unto  them  ;  and  they  shall  fear  and  tremble  for  all  the  good¬ 
ness,  and  for  all  the  prosperity  that  I  procure  unto  it.”f 

When  we  first  came  within  sight  of  Jerusalem,  it  was 
distant  about  five  miles  ;  and  from  that  point  of  view  seemed 
to  occupy  a  small  space  in  the  midst  of  a  wide,  arid  plain, 
round  which  gently  rising  slopes,  rather  than  hills,  appeared 
to  be  gathered.  I  thought  of  the  passage — As  the  mountains 
are  round  about  Jerusalem,  so  the  Lord  is  round  about  his 
people  from  henceforth  even  forever  j!  and  felt  a  sense  of 
disappointment  at  the  picture.  But  this,  like  most  impressions 
hastily  taken,  was  erroneous.  I  had  not  then  arrived  at  the 
proper  point  of  sight  to  obtain  an  accurate  notion  either  of  the 
city  or  its  surrounding  mountains.  As  seen  at  such  a  dis¬ 
tance,  but  little  more  was  apparent  than  a  seemingly  low, 
straight,  embattled  wall,  with  a  few  inconsiderable  buildings, 
and  here  and  there  a  small  dome,  and  a  palm  tree  or  two  • 
the  greater  part  of  the  city,  northward  and  north-eastward 

*  Isaiah,  ii.  2,  3.  1  Jeremiah,  xxxiii.  G— 9.  1  Psalm  exxv.  2. 


240 


PROGRESS  TOWARDS  JERUSASEM. 


being  invisible.  But  still — it  was  Jerusalem — not  such  as 
when  David  and  Solomon,  in  the  fulness  of  their  royal  glory, 
bare  rule  amidst  its  thousands,  or  when  Titus  marched  in  the 
pride  of  Roman  power,  or  when  the  ploughshare  had  passed 
over,  and  rooted  up  its  foundations,  but — it  was  Jerusalem 
11  trodden  down  of  the  Gentiles,  until  the  times  of  the  Gentiles 
be  fulfilled.”*  From  this  point,  the  road  was  level  and  good, 
for  Palestine  ;  and  continued  in  a  gentle  descent.  How  the 
feet  of  buried  generations  have  trodden  it.  How  many  a  pa¬ 
triarch  and  prophet,  how  many  a  pilgrim  and  burning-hearted 
crusader  has  familiarized  himself  with  the  aspect  of  every 
object.  And,  perhaps,  this  very  road  was  once  marked  by 
the  footsteps  of  the  incarnate  Son  of  God. 

As  we  advanced  nearer,  the  city  assumed  her  proper 
position,  and  the  relative  objects  about  her  were  such  as 
Scripture  narrative  would  lead  us  to  expect.  The  Psalmist 
says,  “Jerusalem  is  builded  as  a  city  that  is  compact  together 
[or  at  unity  with  itself;]  and  such  is  precisely  the  idea  which 
even  now  the  mind  conceives  of  it,  occupying  as  it  does,  the 
summit  and  sides  of  a  distinct  and  separate  rocky  elevation^ 
surrounded  for  the  most  part,  by  a  bold  and  deep  valley,  pre¬ 
senting  as  it  were  an  almost  natural  fortification,  surmounted 
by  massive  walls,  though  not  at  present  altogether  worthy 
of  the  commanding  position  which  they  occupy.  In  front 
of  us,  rose  up  the  majestic  heights  of  Mount  Zion.  At  their 
westward  base  lay  the  valley  of  Gihon,  bending  off  towards 
the  valley  of  the  son  of  Hinnom,  and  the  decayed  village  of 
Siloam,  to  which  the  Mount  of  Offence  and  part  of  the  Mount 
of  Olives  formed  the  background.  Having  reached  the 
lowest  point  of  descent,  we  wound  our  way  slowly  up 
towards  the  left,  in  order  to  enter  at  the  Yaffa,  or  Bethlehem 
gate.  At  length — the  weary  pilgrimage  was  accomplished. 
On  the  hundred  and  third  day  after  quitting  my  native  shores, 
I  stood  in  health,  peace,  and  safety — a  candidate  for  admission 
into  the  Holy  City.  It  seemed  almost  to  shadow  forth  to  the 
imagination,  the  Christian’s  pilgrimage  to  the  city  which 

*  Luke,  xxi.  24. 


ARRIVAL  AT  THE  LATIN  CONVENT,  JERUSALEM.  241 

hath  foundations,  whose  maker  and  builder  is  God.  While 
standing  at  the  gate,  ruminating  on  the  past,  and  thinking 
how  improbable  it  appeared,  twelve  months  before,  that  my 
feet  should  ever  tread  Immanuel’s  land,  it  was  really  difficult 
to  realize  the  fact — that  I,  separated  for  a  season  from  the 
duties  of  my  beloved  charge,  was  then  actually  on  the  scene 
of  my  adorable  Saviour’s  triumphs.  My  own  personal  iden 
tity  I  could  not  question  ;  and  yet  a  surmise  just  passed  through 
my  mind — may  it  not  be  all  a  dream? 

A  sort  of  quarantine  had  been  established  at  Jerusalem  foi 
fear  of  plague  ;  and  we  were  not  permitted  to  enter  till  the 
medical  officer  had  seen  us.  After  a  short  delay,  during 
which  we  were  waited  on,  outside  the  walls,  by  Mr.  Johns, 
the  pro-Consul,  who  showed  us  every  polite  attention,  the 
official  personage  made  his  appearance  ;  who,  having  received 
an  explanation  as  to  the  Desert-route  which  we  had  taken 
from  Cairo,  and  being  assured  that  there  was  no  plague  in 
that  place  when  we  left  it,  just  required  us  to  submit  to  a 
slight  fumigation  with  brimstone,  in  a  tent  pitched  near  the 
gate,  as  the  ground  of  a  claim  for  a  few  piastres,  and  admitted 
us  at  once — having  previously  suffered  our  baggage  and 
servants  to  pass  without  any  fumigation  whatever.  We  pro¬ 
ceeded  direct  to  the  Latin  Franciscan  Convent,  where  we 
resolved  to  take  up  our  abode  during  our  stay  in  the  Holy 
City.  A  tolerable  sized  room,  with  whitewashed  walls,  and 
a  small  coarse  bed  at  each  end,  was  set  apart  for  our  use ;  and 
soon,  with  a  little  activity  on  the  part  of  our  faithful  servants, 
we  felt  ourselves  at  home,  with  a  prospect  of  three  weeks 
delightful  sojourn  in  Jerusalem.  Rest,  after  the  dreary  wan¬ 
derings  through  which  we  had  passed,  would  have  been  de¬ 
lightful  in  any  place — under  almost  any  circumstances;  but. 
rest  in  “  the  city  of  the  Great  King” — I  felt  it  was  far  beyond 
my  deserving.  I  could  almost  have  said — Here  let  me  rest 
forever ;  but  I  remembered — I  had  left  my  flock  in  the  wil¬ 
derness  of  an  evil  world,  and  the  earthly  Jerusalem  must  be 
no  home  for  me. 


21 


CHAPTER  VII. 


JERUSALEM. 


Prophetical  Portraiture  of  Jerusalem — Jerusalem— The  Jews — Sacred  Localities— 
The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre — View  of  the  City  from  the  Seraglio — Site  of 
the  Temple — Exterior  of  Jerusalem— Mount  Zion — The  Valley  of  Hinnom — Field 
of  Blood — Tophet — The  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat — Tombs  in  the  Valley  of  Jehosha- 
phat — Gethsemane— The  Mount  of  Olives — Bethany — The  Road  to  Emmaus — 
Tombs  of  the  Kings — A  Lunatic — The  Pool  of  Bethesda — My  first  Sabbath  in  Je 
rusalem— The  New  Jerusalem — The  Jews  in  Palestine — The  Church  in  Jerusa 
lem — Jewish  Custom — My  Second  Sabbath  in  Jerusalem — Future  Movements. 

u  How  doth  the  city  sit  solitary,  that  was  full  of  people  ! 
How  is  she  become  as  a  widow !  She  that  was  great  among 
the  nations,  and  princess  among  the  provinces,  how  is  she  be¬ 
come  tributary  !  She  weepeth  sore  in  the  night,  and  her  tears 
are  on  her  cheeks ;  among  all  her  lovers  she  hath  none  to 
comfort  her  ;  all  her  friends  have  dealt  treacherously  with 
her,  they  are  become  her  enemies.  Judah  is  gone  into  cap¬ 
tivity,  because  of  affliction,  and  because  of  great  servitude  ; 
she  dwelleth  among  the  heathen,  she  findeth  no  rest:  all  her 
persecutors  took  her  between  the  straits.  The  ways  of  Zion 
do  mourn,  because  none  come  to  the  solemn  feasts ;  all  her 
gates  are  desolate  ;  her  priests  sigh,  her  virgins  are  afflicted, 
and  she  is  in  bitterness.  Her  adversaries  are  the  chief,  her 
enemies  prosper  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  afflicted  her,  for  the  mul¬ 
titude  of  her  transgressions  :  her  children  are  gone  into  cap- 
livity  before  the  enemy.  And  from  the  daughter  of  Zion  all 
her  beauty  is  departed ;  her  princes  are  become  like  harts 
that  find  no  pasture  ;  and  they  are  gone  without  strength 
before  the  pursuer.  Jerusalem  remembered  in  the  day  of  her 
affliction,  and  of  her  miseries,  all  her  pleasant  things  that  she 
had  in  the  days  of  old,  when  her  people  fell  into  the  hand  of 
the  enemy,  and  none  did  help  her :  the  adversaries  saw  her, 


PROPHETICAL  PORTRAITURE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


24o 


and  did  mock  at  her  Sabbaths.  Jerusalem  hath  grievously 
sinned  ;  therefore  she  is  removed  :  all  that  honored  her,  de 
spise  her,  because  they  have  seen  her  nakedness:  yea,  she 
sigheth,  and  turneth  backward.  Her  filthiness  is  in  her 
skirts  ;  she  remembereth  not  her  last  end  :  therefore  she  came 
down  wonderfully :  she  had  no  comforter.  O  Lord,  behold 
my  affliction :  for  the  enemy  hath  magnified  himself.  The 
adversary  hath  spread  out  his  hand  upon  all  her  pleasant 
things :  for  she  hath  seen  that  the  heathen  entered  into  her 
sanctuary,  whom  thou  didst  command  that  they  should  not 
enter  into  thy  congregation.  All  her  people  sigh,  they  .seek 
bread  ;  they  have  given  their  pleasant  things  for  meat  to  re¬ 
lieve  the  soul :  see,  O  Lord,  and  consider ;  for  I  am  become 
vile.  Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by  ?  behold,  and 
see  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow,  which  is  done 
unto  me,  wherewith  the  Lord  hath  afflicted  me  in  the  day  of 
his  fierce  anger.  From  above  hath  he  sent  fire  into  my 
bones,  and  it  prevaileth  against  them  :  he  hath  spread  a  net 
for  my  feet ;  he  hath  turned  me  back :  he  hath  made  me 
desolate  and  faint  all  the  day.  The  yoke  of  my  transgres¬ 
sions  is  bound  by  his  hand :  they  are  wreathed,  and  come  up 
upon  my  neck ;  he  hath  made  my  strength  to  fall  ;  the  Lord 
hath  delivered  me  into  their  hands,  from  whom  I  am  not  able 
to  rise  up.  The  Lord  hath  trodden  under  foot  all  my  mighty 
men  in  the  midst  of  me  :  he  hath  called  an  assembly  against 
me  to  crush  my  young  men  .  the  Lord  hath  trodden  the  vir¬ 
gin,  the  daughter  of  Judah,  as  in  a  wine-press.  For  these 
things  I  weep  ;  mine  eye,  mine  eye  runneth  down  with 
water,  because  the  comforter  that  should  relieve  my  soul  is 
far  from  me  :  my  children  are  desolate,  because  the  enemy 
prevailed.  Zion  spreadeth  forth  her  hands,  and  there  is  none 
to  comfort  her :  the  Lord  hath  commanded  concerning  Jacob, 

that  his  adversaries  should  be  round  about  him . The 

Lord  is  righteous ;  for  I  have  rebelled  against  his  command¬ 
ment :  hear,  I  pray  you  all  people,  and  behold  my  sorrow: 
my  virgins  and  my  young  men  are  gone  into  captivity.  I 
called  for  my  lovers,  but  they  deceived  me  :  my  priests  and 


244 


PROPHETICAL  PORTRAITURE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


my  elders  gave  up  the  ghost  in  the  city,  while  they  sought 
their  meat  to  relieve  their  souls.  Behold,  O  Lord,  for  I  am 
in  distress ;  my  bowels  are  troubled  ;  mine  heart  is  turned 
within  me ;  for  I  have  grievously  rebelled  ;  abroad  the  sword 
bereaveth,  at  home  there  is  as  death.  They  have  heard  that 
I  sigh  ;  there  is  none  to  comfort  me  ;  all  mine  enemies  have 
heard  of  my  trouble ;  they  are  glad  that  thou  hast  done 

it . How  hath  the  Lord  covered  the  daughter  of 

Zion  with  a  cloud  in  his  anger,  and  cast  down  from  heaven 
unto  the  earth  the  beauty  of  Irsael,  and  remembered  not  his 

footstool  in  the  day  of  his  anger. . He  hath  swallowed 

up  Israel,  he  hath  swallowed  up  her  palaces  ;  he  hath  de¬ 
stroyed  his  strong  holds,  and  hath  increased  in  the  daughter 
of  Judah  mourning  and  lamentation.  And  he  hath  violently 
taken  away  his  tabernacle,  as  if  it  were  of  a  garden  ;  he  hath 
destroyed  his  places  of  the  assembly ;  the  Lord  hath  caused 
the  solemn  feasts  and  Sabbaths  to  be  forgotten  in  Zion,  and 
hath  despised  in  the  indignation  of  his  anger,  the  king  and 
the  priest.  Tne  Lord  hath  cast  off  his  altar,  he  hath  abhorred 
his  sanctuary,  he  hath  given  up  into  the  hand  of  the  enemy, 
the  walls  of  her  palaces . The  Lord  hath  pur¬ 

posed  to  destroy  the  wall  of  the  daughter  of  Zion  ;  he  hath 
stretched  out  a  line,  he  hath  not  withdrawn  his  hand  from 
destroying  ;  therefore  he  made  the  rampart  and  the  wall  to 
lament ;  they  languished  together.  Her  gates  are  sunk  into 

the  ground ;  he  hath  destroyed  and  broken  her  bars . 

Her  prophets  also  find  no  vision  from  the  Lord.  The  elder?, 
of  the  daughter  of  Zion  sit  upon  the  ground,  and  keep  si 
lence  ;  they  have  cast  up  dust  upon  their  heads;  they  have 
girded  themselves  with  sackcloth  ;  the  virgins  of  Jerusalem 

hang  down  their  heads  to  the  ground . All  that  pass  by 

clap  their  hands  at  thee ;  they  hiss  and  wag  their  head  at  the 
daughter  of  Jerusalem,  saying,  Is  this  the  city  that  men  call 

THE  PERFECTION  OF  BEAUTY,  THE  JOY  OF  THE  WHOLE  EARTH 

Many  a  time  has  the  question  been  proposed  to  me — - 
a  What,  is  the  precise  impression  .hat  Jerusalem  made,  and 

*  See  Lamentations,  chap.  i.  and  ii. 


JERUSALEM - THE  JEWS. 


245 


left,  upon  your  mind?’’  The  most  carefully  graphic  and 
elaborate  answer  that  I  feel  capable  of  affording,  would  fall 
far  short  of  that  which  I  have  just  given  from  the  book  of 
Lamentations — in  every  sentence  of  which,  one  seems  ta 
tr-ce  the  trickling  of  a  tear,  and  the  bursting  of  a  deep-drawn 
sigh — the  tear  and  the  sigh — hopeless  and  heartless — of  Jeru 
salem — for  the  glory  that  is  departed.  Doubtless  the  prophel 
depicted  Jerusalem  as  he  saw  her,  when  the  avenging  hand 
of  Jehovah  first  laid  her  honor  in  the  dust ;  but  he  did  more 
than  that.  With  a  prophet’s  vision  he  foresaw  the  utter  deso¬ 
lation  which  impended  in  times  that  should  be  big  with  the 
most  disastrous  events  towards  her — when  Jerusalem  should 
become  “  heaps,”  and  be  finally,  as  she  now  is,  “  trodden  down 
of  the  Gentiles.”  All  that  Jeremiah  foretold  as  a  prophet, 
and  every  thing  he  recorded  as  an  historian,  is  at  any  mo¬ 
ment  to  be  traced  in  the  present  aspect  of  the  Holy  City,  and 
her  miserable  population.  He  exhibits  her  in  all  the  phases 
of  her  history,  from  Nebuchadnezzar  until  Omar;  and  from 
thence  to  the  day  when  the  Lord  shall  build  up  Zion,  and 
shall  appear  in  his  glory.  Exaggeration  is  almost  impossible 
upon  the  condition  of  Jerusalem  at  the  present  day. 

- u  And  the  Jews  themselves — are  they  really  so  desti¬ 
tute  and  miserable — so  much  the  objects  of  tyranny  and  op¬ 
pression,  as  some  have  alleged  concerning  them  ?” 

This  is  another  inquiry  not  unfrequently  made.  My  an 
swer  shall  be  recorded  in  the  words  of  the  Almighty  himself, 
by  the  mouth  of  Moses  his  servant — every  one  of  which  has 
been  literally  and  exactly  accomplished,  even  to  the  present 
moment.  “  It  shall  come  to  pass,  if  thou  wilt  not  hearken 
unto  the  voice  of  the  Lord  thy  God,  to  observe  to  do  all  his 
commandments  and  his  statutes  which  I  command  you  this 
day ;  that . the  Lord  shall  send  upon  thee  cursing,  vex¬ 

ation,  and  rebuke,  in  all  that  thou  settest  thine  hand  unto  for 
to  do,  until  thou  be  destroyed,  and  until  thou  perish  quickly; 
because  of  the  wickedness  of  thy  doings,  whereby  thou  hast 

forsaken  me . The  Lord  shall  give  thee  there  a 

trembling  heart,  and  failing  of  eyes,  and  sorrow  of  mind  :  and 

91* 

l 


246 


JERUSALEM - THE  JEWS. 


thy  life  shall  hang  in  doubt  before  thee ;  and  thou  shalt  fear 
day  and  nighty  and  shalt  have  none  assurance  of  thy  life.  In 
the  morning  thou  shalt  say,  would  God  it  were  even  !  and  at 
even  thou  shalt  say,  would  God  it  were  morning  !  for  the 
fear  of  thine  heart  wherewith  thou  shalt  fear,  and  for  the 
sight  of  thine  eyes  which  thou  shalt  see.”* 

Viewed  externally,  and  especially  from  the  east,  the  descr 
lation  of  Jerusalem  is  not  so  apparent,  except  when  the  eye 
glances  upon  the  great  mosq-ue  at  Omar,  occupying  the  site 
where  once  stood  the  temple  in  its  majesty  and  its  glory  ; 
and  then  it  is  that  the  tide  of  her  wondrous  history  rolls 
through  the  awakened  mind,  and  the  image  of  her  former 
self  rises  in  marbled  majesty,  amidst  the  imagined  songs  of 
priests  and  levites,  and  the  attendant  trains  of  Solomon  and 
of  David — her  kings.  The  sense  of  contrast  then  at  once 
takes  possession  of  the  mind  ;  and  is  confirmed  to  the  exact 
letter  of  Scripture,  by  an  hour’s  walk  in  her  lonely  and  silent 
streets,  amidst  her  dim  and  darkened  habitations,  where  the 
sound  of  one’s  solitary  footsteps  keeps  time  to  the  cadence  of 
saddening  thoughts  which  crowd  upon  the  soul.  I  never 
felt ,  though  1  have  firmly  believed,  the  dread  realities  in 
which  prophecy  has  developed  itself,  till  I  stood  within  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem,  and  till  I  gazed  on  the  mountains  and 

*  See  particularly  Deut.  xxviii.  15,20,  65,  66,  67;  but  consult  the  whole 
chapter  in  general  reference  to  the  Jews  elsewhere  as  well  as  in  Palestine. 
As  to  their  religion,  such  as  it  is,  they  are  tolerated  in  it  by  the  Turkish 
government :  but  the  rapacity  with  which  they  are  treated  in  temporal 
things  is  sad  indeed.  I  may  instance  one  particular,  which  I  had  on  the 
highest  authority.  The  houses  in  Jerusalem  belong  to  Turks.  If  a  Jew 
wants  a  habitation,  he  must  therefore  have  an  oppressive  hater  for  his 
landlord.  The  landlord  has  a  right  to  demand  a  year’s  rent,  to  be  paid  on 
taking  possession ;  but  yet  he  may  eject  the  tenant  at  a  short  notice.  The 
Mahommedan  law  sanctions  the  claim  of  an  ejected  tenant  for  the  repay¬ 
ment  of  an  adequate  portion  of  the  rent;  but  he  must  prove  his  case  before 
the  Cadi.  A  Jew’s  testimony  is  not  admissible.  A  Christian’s  is  refused. 
No  Turk  will  bear  witness  on  behalf  of  a  Jew.  So  then  at  any  moment,  a 
Jew  may  be  turned  into  the  street:  and  in  addition  to  that  calamity,  must 
lose  all  the  year’s  rent  which  he  paid  in  advance.  Moreover,  if  a  Jew  en¬ 
gage  in  any  little  trade,  he  barely  earns  enough  to  sustain  life.  If  he  pos¬ 
sess  anything  beyond  this,  he  is  an  object  towards  which  rapacity  glances 
its  greedy  and  cruel  eye.  The  poor  Jews  throughout  Palestine  derive  all 
their  sustenance,  or  nearly  so,  from  contributions  made  by  the  richer  Jews 
in  various  parts  of  Europe. 


JERUSALEM. 


247 


valleys  of  Palestine.  I  think  if  I  had  gone  forth  a  sceptic,  I 
must  have  returned  a  believer.  Either  the  Bible  must  be 
true  or  Judea  an  unreal  thing — an  inexplicable  phenomenon. 
In  its  reality,  and  in  its  present  condition,  lies  the  proof  which 
even  the  pride  of  human  reason  cannot  reject,  that  the  page 
of  inspiration  is  the  depository  of  immutable  truth — the  text 
of  unerring  appeal,  of  which  Judea  is  a  living  commentary 
and  interpreter. 

But  I  must  pause  on  this  subject,  till  I  have  briefly  sketched 
the  portraiture  of  the  Holy  City  and  her  adjacent  territory,  as 
I  beheld  it. 

“  How  doth  the  city  sit  solitary  /”  All  who  have  walked 
around  Jerusalem  must  have  felt  this.  No  suburbs — no  sur¬ 
rounding  busy  population — none  of  the  stir  and  activity  of 
enterprising  life  is  to  be  seen.  The  wall  of  Jerusalem  lies 
about  her  like  a  fetter  ;  and  the  hand  of  oppression  crushes 
her.  She  is  captive  and  hopeless.  A  few  goats  and  sheep, 
straggling  about  the  rocks  which  overhang  the  shattered  re¬ 
mains  of  the  village  of  Si  loam — a  few  swarthy  shepherds 
plying  their  listless  occupation — with  here  and  there  a  fierce 
and  armed  Bedawee  from  the  surrounding  deserts  and  moun 
tain  fastnesses,  and  now  and  then  a  cowled  monk  or  wander 
ing  pilgrim — steal  in  upon  the  picture  ;  and  except  it  be  the 
sound  of  the  Muezzin  from  the  minarets,  proclaiming  the 
hour  of  prayer  to  the  followers  of  the  false  prophet,  you  may 
sit  on  the  hill  slopes,  on  either  side,  for  an  hour  together,  and 
not  hear  the  vibration  of  a  human  voice  from  that  spot  which 
once  echoed  to  the  strains  of  sacred  song,  and  royal  triumph, 
and  national  glory,  and  enterprising  ardor.  Alas,  alas ! 
u  How  doth  the  city  sit  solitary !” 

I  shall  now  present  a  narrative  of  my  pursuits  in  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  as  I  find  them  recorded  in  my  journal  at  the  time.  But 
before  I  proceed,  I  would  briefly  state  my  mind  in  reference 
to  what  are  called  the  sacred  localities — that  is,  those  spots 
which  are  reputed  to  be  the  scenes  of  the  various  events 
recorded  in  sacred  history.  They  resolve  themselves  into 
two  classes.  Those  of  the  first  class  consist  of  such  as  admit 


248 


SACRED  LOCALITIES. 


of  proof  from  the  page  of  Scripture  and  other  authentic 
sources,  and  are  independent  of  the  mere  traditions  and  le¬ 
gends  of  popery — such  as  Mount  Zion,  Mount  Moriah,  the 
Brook  Kedron,  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  the  Valley  of  the 
son  of  Hinnom,  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  and  others  of  which  there  is  no  doubt.  Those  of  the 
second  class,  are  such  as  have  been  seized  upon  for  the  pur¬ 
poses  of  superstitious  usage  ;  such  as  the  alleged  actual  spot 
of  the  crucifixion  and  sepulture  of  our  adorable  Redeemer, 
and  those  where  he  was  bound  and  scourged  when  living, 
and  in  which  his  body  was  prepared  for  the  burial,  when 
dead — and  such  like.  With  regard  to  the  former,  we  have 
all  the  proof  which  the  nature  of  the  case  admits  of — nay,  all 
we  should  desire.  But  as  to  the  latter,  superstition  lays  itself 
open  to  the  charge  of  endeavoring  to  prove  too  much.  That 
the  transactions  so  sought  to  be  minutely  localized,  transpired 
somewhere  about — and  'possibly  on  the  very  spots  assigned,  I 
would  not  venture  to  doubt.  But  when  I  see  so  many  of 
them  huddled  together  within  the  narrow  confines  of  the 
church  of  the  holy  sepulchre,  my  mind  feels  perplexed  and 
confined  in  the  contemplation  of  them  ;  and  the  solemnity  of 
thought  and  feeling  is  invaded  by  the  tinsels  and  trappings 
and  gildings  and  illuminations,  and  mere  monkery  under 
which  they  are  obscured.  Could  we  but  sweep  away  the 
popery  and  superstitious  guardianship  which  pollute  and  de¬ 
grade  the  holy  places,  the  believing  heart  might  expand  over 
them  with  unrestricted  freedom  and  delight.  I  could  but 
feel  indignant  and  disgusted  at  seeing  the  alleged  Golgotha, 
and  the  place  of  the  holy  sepulchre  invaded  by  the  presence 
and  power  of  a  church  which  exalts  the  Virgin  Mother  above 

her  mediating,  redeeming  and  triumphant  Son.  No! - 

Let  me  sit  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  from  which  the  whole 
city  is  distinctly  visible — let  me  get  my  heart  attuned  to  the 
sweet  music  of  holy  meditation,  till  it  glows  with  renewed 
energy  of  faith,  and  then  let  me  look  forth  upon  all  these 
things  in  the  main ;  let  me  feel  that  I  am  gazing  on  the  whole 
scene  of  my  adorable  Redeemer’s  humiliation  and  triumph ; 


SACRED  LOCALITIES. 


249 


that  there  the  vast  sacrifice  was  offered,  and  the  all-effectual 
atonement  accomplished — that  there — in  that  spot  on  which 
my  eye  now  rests  in  the  energy  of  recollection — He  was  de¬ 
livered  for  my  offences,  and  raised  again  for  my  justification 
— and  I  am  content.  But  bring  me  back,  amidst  the  stage- 
play  scenery  of  these  garnished  localities,  and  the  deep  sensa 
tion  produced  by  a  suitable  presence  of  venerable  scenes, 
evaporates  in  doubtfulness  and  disquietude  of  mind.  View 
sacred  scenes  in  their  naked  reality,  and  the  truths  connected 
with  them  swell  into  their  proper  immensity  as  the  mind  re¬ 
ceives  and  acts  on  them.  View  them  as  superstition  presents 
them,  and  the  mind  labors  at  the  conception,  if  it  does  not 
even  count  them  little.  And  I  am  sure  that  in  proportion  to 
the  healthy  simplicity  of  our  Christian  faith,  is  the  delight 
we  experience  while  surveying  sacred  spots,  in  the  main  ;  and 
the  contempt  which  we  feel  for  all  that  would  interfere  with 
our  more  massive  and  enlarged  perceptions.  The  whole  of 
Jerusalem  is  rendered  illustrious  as  the  scene  of  redemption, 
just  as  the  whole  of  Horeb  is  made  glorious  as  the  scene  of  a 
divine  legislation  ;  and  as  the  whole  of  the  wilderness  is  made 
venerable  as  the  scene  of  Israel’s  wanderings,  and  as  con¬ 
nected  with  the  opening  of  a  dispensation  towards  man,  the 
final  glories  of  which  are  yet  to  be  developed. 

Next  to  the  solemn  joy  I  experienced  on  entering  the  Holy 
City,  was  the  delightful  anticipation  of  finding  there  the  newly 
consecrated  bishop  of  a  Church  occupying  the  same  spiritual 
foundation  as  that  on  which  the  Church  of  Jerusalem  stood, 
when  James — the  faithful  witness  and  first  bishop,  there  sat 
in  the  seat  of  authority  to  uphold  and  promote  “  the  faith 
once  delivered  to  the  saints.”  it  was  no  small  joy,  after  wan¬ 
dering  so  long  in  unchristian  wilds,  to  be  received  and  wel¬ 
comed  by  him — the  spiritual  overseer  of  our  infant  church  in 
that  sacred  city,  and  to  meet  dear  Christian  brethren,  on  whom 
holy  hands  had  been  laid — with  them  to  hold  sweet  commu¬ 
nion  and  to  sing  the  Lord’s  song,  though  in  a  strange  land. 

Our  first  perambulation  in  Jerusalem  led  us  to  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  After  due  consideration  of  most  that 


250 


CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  SEPULCHRE. 


has  been  written  on  the  subject,  I  am  inclined  to  the  belief, 
that  it  really  stands  on  the  spot  which  is  hallowed  in  our  mem¬ 
ories  by  the  name  of  Calvary.  It  were  an  unprofitable  task 
to  bring-  together  in  this  place  all  that  may  be  adduced  in  the 
way  of  argument  in  support  of  this  opinion.  I  therefore  for 
bear.  Nor  will  I  weary  my  readers  with  any  description  of 
the  Church  itself,  so  abundantly  and  accurately  described  by 
others.  I  felt  myself  surrounded  in  it  by  the  various  kinds 
of  popish  apparatus  with  which  I  had  become  familiar — even 
to  disgust,  in  France  and  Italy  ;  and  hastened  through  the 
mere  exhibition  that  awaited  me,  perfectly  convinced  that  if 
any  of  the  scenes  of  our  blessed  Lord’s  humiliation  and  suf¬ 
fering  were  actually  beneath  that  roof,  they  were  as  utterly 
obscured  and  disfigured  by  outward  decoration,  as  His  finish¬ 
ed  and  perfect  work  of  redemption  effected  there,  is  obscured 
and  disfigured  by  the  corruptions  of  an  apostate  church.  I  felt 
it  to  be  just  possible,  and  that  was  all — that  the  spot  shown  me 
as  the  actual  scene  of  the  crucifixion  might  indeed  be  that,  and 
it  might  be  a  part  of  the  rock,  riven  by  the  earthquake,  which 
was  enshrined  near  it ;  that  the  stone  column,  half  concealed 
by  iron  work,  might  have  been  that  to  which  our  Lord  was 
bound  when  scourged — that  the  small  fragment  of  rude  stone 
seen  by  the  light  of  a  small  taper,  through  a  kind  of  iron  fili¬ 
gree,  might  have  been  the  stone  on  which  he  sat  to  be  crown¬ 
ed  with  thorns — and  that  the  spot  overhung  with  lamps,  and 
covered  with  a  white  marble  sarcophagus,  with  a  kind  of  domed 
structure  in  the  centre,  might  have  been  the  place  of  our 
Lord’s  burial  and  resurrection  ;  but  when  I  saw  the  near  jux¬ 
taposition  of  all  these  things — and  knew,  that  in  order  to  pro¬ 
vide  for  the  structure  of  the  Church,  the  site  had  to  be  cut 
down  and  levelled  ;  and  when  1  reflected  that  on  the  very 
spot  a  heathen  temple  had  stood,  till  removed  by  the  Empress 
Helena,  to  make  room  for  this  Church  ;  and  moreover,  when 
I  bore  in  mind  the  purpose  which  all  these  things  were  to 
serve,  and  the  spirit  of  that  church  which  thus  paraded  these 
objects  of  curiosity — I  did  feel  that  after  all  they  might  not  be 
what  they  professed.  Yet  all  this  cou.d  not  do  away  with  the 


VIEW  OF  THE  CITY  FROM  THE  SERAGLIO.  251 

impression  that  thereabouts  was  indeed  the  scene  of  our  blessed 
Lord’s  precious  death  and  resurrection.  But  while  there — 
even  that  impression  failed  to  produce  any  satisfying  effect 
upon  my  mind. 

Far  different  was  the  feeling  with  which  I  stood  on  that 
commanding  position — the  roof  of  the  Seraglio,  or  Governor’s 
residence  ;  a  poor  mean  building,  filled  with  idle  Turkish  sol¬ 
diers.  From  that  spot  a  fine  panoramic  view  of  the  city  pre¬ 
sents  itself,  which,  while  enabling  the  spectator  to  see  it  some¬ 
what  in  detail,  induces  the  mind  to  a  contemplation  of  the 
contrast  between  its  present  and  its  former  state.  Amidst  all 
the  sad  evidences  of  change,  and  traces  of  spoliation  within  the 
walls,  it  is  delightful  to  glance  upon  the  surrounding  scenery, 
and  to  know  that  as  the  mountains  ever  stood  round  about 
Jerusalem,  so  they  stand  now,  unchanged  ;  that  prophets, 
apostles,  martyrs — yea,  their  incarnate  Creator  himself — all 
have  gazed  on  them  as  we  behold  them  ;  that  though  Jeho¬ 
vah  frowns  on  them  for  a  time,  yet  still  they  were  once  bathed 
in  the  glorious  light  of  his  favor,  and  again  will  be,  when  he 
shall  cause  his  banished  ones  to  return.  The  sun  was  nearly 
set  when  we  reached  the  Seraglio  5  but  his  last  rich  beams 
were  cast  in  glowing  magnificence  upon  the  higher  ridges  of 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  on  the  east,  and  tinged  the  white  domes 
and  minarets  of  Jerusalem  with  a  faint  brightness,  in  which 
the  solitary  and  widowed  city  seemed  to  smile  sorrowfully 
amidst  her  tears. 

From  the  roof  of  the  Seraglio,  which  stands  on  the  northern 
side  of  the  ancient  site  of  the  Temple,  we  obtained  a  tolera¬ 
bly  correct  notion  of  that  notable  spot.  Indeed  this  is  the 
nearest  point  of  view  to  which  either  Jews  or  Christians  are 
permitted  to  approach.  The  Mosque  of  Omar,  the  Turkish 
cathedral  of  Palestine,  in  its  poor  tawdry  and  unarchitectural 
style,  affords  a  melancholy  contrast  to  the  Temple,  as  imagi¬ 
nation  pictures  it  while  reading  the  sacred  narrative.  It  oc¬ 
cupies  the  centre  of  the  area,  which  is  made  quite  level,  and 
planted  with  cypress  and  other  trees.  As  the  sun  was  setting, 
the  sound  of  the  Muezzin  bid  the  “  faithful to  prayer ;  and 


252 


EXTERIOR  OF  JERUSALEM. 


soon,  in  various  parts  of  the  large  area,  groups  of  devout  Mus- 
selmans  were  seen  eng-aged  in  their  wonted  solemnities.  How 
hitter  must  be  the  reflection  of  the  thoughtful  Jew,  when  ga¬ 
zing  down  on  the  spot  in  which  Jehovah  once  placed  his 
name ;  when  he  beholds  on  it  the  symbols  of  a  perverted 
creed,  and  knows  himself  to  be  banished  from  its  sacred  pre¬ 
cincts  j  when  he  sees  the  infidel  triumphing  where  his  buried 
fathers  once  sacrificed  and  worshipped ;  and  Mahomet  comple¬ 
ting  what  Pagan  Rome  began. 

On  the  following  day  we  took  a  general  survey  of  the  ex¬ 
terior  of  the  city,  making  our  exit  by  St.  Stephen’s  gate,  on 
the  eastern  side,  which  is  approached,  from  the  Latin  Con¬ 
vent,  along  the  Via  dolorosa — the  supposed  path  by  which 
our  Lord  went  up  to  Calvary,  bearing  his  cross  j  and  if  the 
Church  of  the  Hoi)'’  Sepulchre  really  stands  on  Calvary,  it  is 
probable  that  this  street  may  be  rightly  designated.  It  is  now 
a  narrow,  steep  and  rugged  way,  running  nearly  due  east  and 
west,  and  has  two  or  three  obscure  streets  branching  off  from  it, 
one  of  which  leads  into  the  bazaars,  and  onwards  to  the  Jews 
quarter,  on  the  south.  Passing  out  at  St.  Stephen’s  gate,  the 
eye  rests  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives — that  object  of  deep  and 
enduring  interest,  with  its  white  chalky  soil,  scattered  over  in 
parts  with  thin,  spare  herbage,  and  slightly  overshadowed  by 
fig,  olive,  and  pomegranate  trees.  The  Christian’s  heart  vibrates 
as  he  gazes  on  it ;  and  soon  he  almost  instinctively  inquires — 

- “Where  is  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane? — it  must  be 

near  at  hand.” 

- Pass  down  yon  winding  path  of  steep  and  rocky  de¬ 
scent,  which  your  Saviour’s  feet  so  often  trod,  when  he  went 
forth  to  meditate  and  pray,  and  brace  up  his  soul  for  its  vast 
achievements — bear  off  a  little  to  the  right — descend  into  the 
deep  valley  of  Jehoshaphat — cross  that  rude  stone  bridge 
which  spans  the  narrow  bed  of  the  brook  Kedron  ;  and  a  few 
paces  beyond — there — on  the  right,  where  those  eight  aged 
and  twisted  olives  cast  their  quiet  shade,  fenced  in  by  a  rough 
wall  of  undressed  stone — that  is  Gethsemane  ;  and  beyond — 
over  the  Mount,  and  off  to  the  right,  round  its  base,  are  the 


EXTERIOR  OF  JERUSALEM. 


253 


several  roads  to  Bethany.  I  beheld  these  scenes  for  a  brief 
space,  in  silence,  just  to  realize  the  fact ;  but  I  felt  I  had  need 
of  a  certain  preparation  of  mind  and  heart  before  I  could  set 
a  pilgrim’s  foot  upon  their  soil. 

As  we  proceeded,  I  deemed  it  no  small  privilege  to  be  sur¬ 
rounded  by  objects  with  which  my  Bible  had  long  made  me  fa¬ 
miliar;  on  my  left,  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  with  the  village 
of  Siloam  and  its  fountain ;  before  me,  the  valley  of  the  son 
of  Hinnom — the  place  of  Tophet — and  Aceldama,  the  field 
of  blood,  beyond  it;  on  my  right,  the  heights  of  Zion,  crowd¬ 
ed  with  memorials  of  David,  and  all  his  troubles  and  all  his 
triumphs.  But  I  recollect  that  every  thing  seemed  shadowy 
and  representative ,  rather  than  real:  my  mind  wanted  time  to 
concentrate  itself  upon  scenes  such  as  these.  The  historical 
facts  connected  with  them,  and  with  the  whole  locality,  had 
all,  to  me,  in  the  rapid  associations  of  the  mind,  a  recentness 
about  them,  which  chronology  denied.  The  personages  of 
sacred  history  seemed  to  be  as  near,  as  if  they  had  been  the 
men  of  but  yesterday,  and  as  if  their  recent  biography  might  be 
heard  from  the  lips  of  those  who  had  lived  and  conversed  with 
them,  and  beheld  their  achievements.  Past  ages  came  roll¬ 
ing  back  upon  me  while  I  stood  in  the  midst  of  scenes  which 
had  supplied  matters  of  record  for  all  time  and  all  memory — 
things  which  can  never  really  grow  old,  intermingled  as  they 
are,  and  will  be,  with  the  various  streams  which  make  up  the 
broad  current  of  man’s  moral  history  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end.  It  is  difficult  to  make  other  minds  exactly  sensible 
of  the  process  which  my  own  underwent  while  taking  the 
first  general  survey  of  Jerusalem  and  its  surrounding  objects 
of  eternally  enduring  interest.  I  think  it  can  be  understood 
only  at  Jerusalem.  My  Bible  has  ever  since  been  almost  like  a 
new  book  to  me.  It  is  true,  I  do  not  believe  any  of  its  records  the 
more  for  having  been  in  Jerusalem  ;  but  I  find  an  indescriba¬ 
ble  freshness  and  reality  about  every  narrative  as  I  peruse  it, 
and  as  I  suffer  my  recollection  to  bring  the  scene  of  it  before 
me,  whether  it  refer  to  the  triumphs  and  the  glory  of  David 
and  of  Solomon — the  vengeance  of  Jehovah  upon  a  favored 

22 


254 


MOUNT  ZION. 


but  faithless  people,  or  the  wonders  of  redemption  effected  fo> 
a  fallen  world. 

I  will  now  endeavor  to  bring  together  my  observations 
upon  the  most  interesting  and  unquestionable  localities  about 
the  Holy  City,  without  adhering  to  the  order  in  which  I 
visited  them  from  day  to  day,  during  the  three  happy  and 
privileged  weeks  which  I  spent  there. 

Zion.  “  Let  Mount  Zion  rejoice,  let  the  daughters  of  Judah 
be  glad,  because  of  thy  judgments.  Walk  about  Zion,  and 
go  round  about  her :  tell  the  towers  thereof.  Mark  ye  well 
her  bulwarks,  consider  her  palaces ;  that  ye  may  tell  it  to  the 
generation  following.”*  The  rejoicing  of  Zion  is  hushed  ; 
the  gladness  of  the  daughter  of  Judah  is  changed  into  mourn¬ 
ing-  :  the  towers  and  bulwarks  of  Zion  have  crumbled,  and 
her  palaces  have  become  a  desolation  ;  generation  has  told  to 
generation  the  severity  of  the  judgments  of  Jehovah  ;  and  on 
that  noble  and  ennobled  spot,  there  is  now  seen  the  fulfilment 
of  the  prophecy — “  Therefore  shall  Zion,  for  my  sake,  be 
ploughed  as  a  field.”!  On  her  southern  slopes  she  yields  to 
the  culture  of  the  husbandmen  ;  and  thin,  spare  crops  of  grain 
and  tobacco  are  scattered  about.  As  I  walked  about  Zion  ir. 
her  desolateness,  and  thought  of  the  “  City  of  David,”  and  of 
the  “Ark  of  the  Lord”  in  the  midst  of  the  tabernacle  that 
David  there  pitched  for  it ;  and  as  I  stood  at  the  gate  of  Zion, 
looking  over  to  the  south,  down  the  slopes  extending  to  the 
valley  of  Hinnom,  the  silence  and  almost  solitude  of  the  scene 
impressed  me  greatly  How  vast  the  change — how  awful 
the  cause !  Instead  of  being  the  seat  of  enthroned  majesty 
and  glory,  Zion  is  now  a  city  of  the  dead.  The  bones  of 
David  himself — where  are  they?  Were  they  laid  in  an 
obscure  grave?  Scripture  affirms  they  were  buried  in  the 
city  of  David.j:  Tradition  says  they  repose  on  Mount  Zion — 
the  site  of  that  city.  The  minaret  of  a  small  mosque  points 
out  the  spot  to  which  tradition  bids  us  look.  “  Men  and 
brethren,”  said  Peter,  when  preaching  Jesus  and  the  resurrec- 
.ion,  at  Jerusalem — “  Men  and  brethren,  let  me  freely  speak 
*  Psalm  xlviii.  II — 13.  +  Mic.  iii.  12.  1 1  Kings  ii.  10. 


MOUNT  ZION - THE  VALLEY  OF  HINNOM. 


255 


to  you  of  the  patriarch  David,  that  he  is  both  dead  and  buried, 
and  his  sepulchre  is  with  us  unto  this  day.”*  Alas  for  poor 
humanity  !  Even  David,  himself — the  man  after  God’s  own 
heart — what  remains  of  him  on  the  earth  ?  A  noble — a 
wondrous — a  humbling  history  ;  dust — a  grave — a  tradition  ! 

The  larger  half  of  Mount  Zion  is  unenclosed  by  the  city 
walls ;  and  a  considerable  part  of  it  is  occupied  by  places  of 
sepulture  belonging  to  the  Latin,  Greek,  and  Armenian  com¬ 
munities,  and  to  the  American  Missionaries.  The  only  build¬ 
ings  of  any  note  are  the  mosque  already  mentioned,  and  a 
rude  Armenian  convent,  said  by  the  monks  to  occupy  the  site 
of  the  house  of  Caiaphas.  And  shall  it  be  always  thus  ? 
Shall  the  traces  of  divine  indignation  ever  be  visible?  Faith 
says — no;  and  hope,  rejoicing  in  promise — says,  no!  Though 
Zion  has  become  a  wilderness,  and  Jerusalem  desolationf — • 
though  the  Lord  hath  filled  Zion  with  judgment, | — yet  He 
loveth  her  gates, §  He  will  do  good  unto  her  in  his  good 
pleasure, [|  He  will  save  Zion  and  build  the  cities  of  Judah. 

The  Valley  of  Hinnom.  Perhaps  there  is  no  better  point 
of  sight  from  which  to  view  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  than  that 
afforded  by  the  southern  slopes  of  Mount  Zion.  The  lower 
bed  of  the  valley  lies  at  an  almost  startling  depth,  and  is 
shaded  by  a  great  number  of  olive  and  pomegranate  trees. 
The  rocks  on  the  opposite  side  are  rugged  and  precipitous ; 
but  still  it  possesses  an  indescribable  air  of  repose.  Hushed 
are  all  those  dreadful  shrieks  and  cries  which  once  echoed  in 
the  midst  of  it,  when  idolatrous  parents  sacrificed  to  Molech,** 
making  their  children  to  pass  through  the  fire,  and  drowning 
their  agonies  amidst  the  braying  clangor  of  musical  instru¬ 
ments,  ft  The  might  of  the  good  Josiah  was  displayed  there — 
when  he  broke  in  pieces  the  idol  Molech,  cut  down  its  polluted 
and  blood-stained  groves,  and  crushed  the  abomination  of  the 

*  Acts  ii.  29.  •  t  Isaiah  lxiv.  10.  t  Isaiah  xxxiii.  5. 

§  Psalm  lxxxvii.  2.  II  Psalm  li.  18.  IT  Psalm  lxix.  35. 

**  See  2  Kings  xxiii.  10.  2  Chronicles  xxviii.  3. 

tt  It  has  been  thought  that  the  Hebrew  word  uToph ”  — which  signifies 
a  loud  musical  instrument,  gave  the  name  of  Tophet  to  this  scene  of  idola¬ 
trous  horror. 


‘256 


FIELD  OF  BLOOD. 


heathen.  Formerly  the  refuse  and  filth  of  the  city  were  cast 
into  this  deep  valley,  by  command  of  Josiah,  together  with  the 
dead  bodies  of  malefactors  and  animals.  And  for  the  purpose 
of  preventing  infectious  disease,  the  natural  consequence  of 
such  deposits,  devouring  fires  were  kept  continually  burning — 
whence  it  was  metaphorically  called  by  the  Jews,  Gehenna — 
the  place  of  eternal  torments.  Its  present  Arabic  name  is 
Wadey  Jehennam. 

The  Field  of  Blood,  &c.  11  Then  Judas,  which  had 

betrayed  him,  when  he  saw  that  he  was  condemned,  repented 
nimself,  and  brought  again  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  to  the 
Chief  Priest  and  elders,  saying,  I  have  sinned  in  that  I  have 
betrayed  the  innocent  blood.  And  they  said,  What  is  that  to 
us  ?  see  thou  to  that.  And  he  cast  down  the  pieces  of  silver 
in  the  temple,  and  departed  and  went  and  hanged  himself. 
And  the  Chief  Priests  took  the  silver  pieces,  and  said,  It  is  not 
lawful  for  to  put  them  into  the  treasury,  because  it  is  the  price 
of  blood.  And  they  took  counsel,  and  bought  with  them  the 
potter’s  field  to  bury  strangers  in.  Wherefore  that  field  was 
called  the  field  of  blood,  unto  this  day.”*  “  Now  this  man 
(Judas)  purchased  a  field f  with  the  reward  of  iniquity  ;  and 
falling  headlong,  he  burst  asunder  in  the  midst,  and  all  his 
bowels  gushed  out.  And  it  was  known  unto  all  the  dwellers 
in  Jerusalem ;  insomuch  as  that  field  is  called  in  their  proper 
tongue,  Aceldama,  that  is  to  say  the  field  of  blood.”;);  These 
Scripture  narratives  invest  the  potter’s  field  with  a  gloomy  and 
awful  interest ;  and  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  there  seems  every 
thing  to  favor  the  idea  that  the  spot  fixed  on  is  the  true  one. 
Crossing  the  valley  of  Hinnom  from  Mount  Zion,  and  bearing 
slightly  towards  the  east,  you  make  a  steep  ascent  and  reach 
the  potter’s  field — a  space  of  small  extent,  and  evidently  a 
place  of  sepulture.  In  the  middle  of  it  there  is  still  a  charnel 

*  Matthew  xxvii.  3 — 8. 

t  St  Matthew  says  the  Chief  Priests  purchased  the  field ;  but  here  it  is 
said  that  Judas  did  so.  There  is  no  real  discrepancy,  Judas  occasioned 
the  field  to  be  purchased  by  the  Chief  Priests,  by  returning  to  them  the 
money  which  they  could  not  put  into  the  treasury  again. 

X  Acts  i.  18,  19.  & 


TOPHET. 


257 


house.  In  the  time  of  Sandys,  one  of  our  earliest  writers,  this 
building  was  roofed  in,  but  is  now  open  at  the  top.  The  dead 
bodies  appear  to  have  been  admitted  by  apertures  in  the  walls; 
“  through  which,”  says  Sandys,  “  we  might  see  the  bottom,  all 
covered  with  bones,  and  certain  corpses  but  newly  let  down — 
it  being  now  the  sepulchre  of  the  Armenians  ;  a  greedy 
grave,  and  great  enough  to  devour  the  dead  of  a  whole 
nation  ;  for  they  say  that  the  earth  thereof  within  the  space  of 
eight  and  forty  hours  will  consume  the  flesh  that  is  laid  there¬ 
on.”*  Even  to  this  day,  the  potter’s  field  is  the  accustomed 
place  “to  bury  strangers  in.”  Alas  for  the  guilt  and  bitter¬ 
ness  of  heart  with  which  that  traitor  Judas  went  forth  with  a 
suicide’s  determination  to  the  potter’s  field !  One’s  heart 
shudders  while  contemplating  the  picture.  Let  us  beware  of 
crying  “  Hail  master,”  with  a  hollow-hearted  profession,  while 
we  “  crucify  the  son  of  God  afresh,  and  put  him  to  an  open 
shame.” 

In  the  descent  from  the  potter’s  field  towards  the  valley  of 
Jehoshaphat,  the  space,  to  a  wide  extent,  is  covered  in  every 
part  with  tombs  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  and  some  of  them  have 
the  remains  of  enriched  architraves.  They  are  all  very 
ancient.  While  standing  in  the  midst  of  them  and  looking 
towards  Mount  Zion,  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat  runs  off  to 
the  right,  and  is  surmounted  by  the  “  high  places  of  Tophet 
on  the  left  it  is  joined  by  the  valley  of  Hinnom.  There  is  a 
passage  in  Jeremiah  which  I  cannot  help  connecting  with 
this  extensive  and  once  vastly  crowded  burial-place.  If  I  am 
right  in  doing  so,  there  still,  however,  remains  a  question 
whether  it  is  entirely  fulfilled.  The  prophet’s  words  are  these 
— •“  For  the  children  of  Judah  have  done  evil  in  my  sight, 
saith  the  Lord  :  they  have  set  their  abominations  in  the  house 
which  is  called  by  my  name,  to  pollute  it.  And  they  have 
built  the  high  places  of  Tophet,  which  is  in  the  valley  of  the 
son  of  Hinnom,  to  burn  their  sons  and  their  daughters  in  the 
fire ;  which  I  commanded  them  not,  neither  came  it  into  my 
heart.  Therefore,  behold  the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord,  that 

*  Sandys,  p.  187. 


258 


TOPHET - THE  VALLEY  OP  JEHOSHAPHAT. 


it  shal.  no  more  be  called  Tophet,  nor  The  valley  of  the 
son  of  Hinnom,  but  The  valley  of  slaughter  ;  for  they  shall 
bury  in  Tophet,  till  there  be  no  place.  And  the  carcases  of 
this  people  shall  be  meat  for  the  fowls  of  the  heaven,  and  for 
the  beasts  of  the  earth  ;  and  none  shall  fray  them  away 
Then  will  I  cause  to  cease  from  the  cities  of  Judah,  and  from 
the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  the  voice  of  mirth,  and  the  voice  of 
gladness,  the  voice  of  the  bridegroom,  and  the  voice  of 
the  bride  ;  for  the  land  shall  be  desolate.”*  In  the  last  verse 
of  this  passage,  there  certainly  seems  to  be  such  a  note  of 
time,  as  should  lead  us  to  look  upon  the  whole  as  fulfilled. 
The  tradition  continues  to  this  day,  that  upon  the  heights, 
immediately  above  and  about  the  place  called  Tophet  (that 
is,  upon  the  “high  places  of  Tophet” — now  called  the  Mount 
of  Offence,  or  the  Mount  of  Corruption),  Solomon  set  up  his 
idols  and  instituted  the  worship  of  Baalim,  at  the  instigation 
of  his  strange  wives — the  women  of  the  Moabites,  Ammonites, 
Edomites,  Zidonians,  and  Hittites.  The  sacred  historian 
distinctly  declares  that  Solomon  built  “an  high  place  for 
Chemosh,  the  abomination  of  Moab,  in  the  hill  that  is  before 
(that  is,  toward  the  east  of)  Jerusalem  j  and  for  Molech,  the 
abomination  of  the  children  of  Ammon.”f  Here  there  seems 
to  be  a  local  accordance  with  the  words  of  the  prophet.  In 
the  next  place,  a  careful  inspection  of  the  spot  in  question, 
quite  suggests  the  idea  that  burials  had  been  really  so 
multiplied  there,  that  in  Tophet,  there  was  “no  place” 
left  for  more.  Here  seems  to  be  a  circumstantial  accord¬ 
ance.  Every  tomb  is  now  empty  and  desolate,  as  if  the 
carcases  of  the  buried  generations  had  been  meat  for  the 
fowls  of  the  heaven,  and  for  the  beasts  of  the  earth ;  and  in 
this  there  appears  something  like  a  second  circumstantial 
accordance. 

The  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat.  One  of  the  most  picturesque, 
and  at  the  same  time  deeply  interesting  scenes,  is  the  valley 
of  Jehoshaphat,  viewed  from  the  brow  of  the  hill  descending 
from  the  high  places  of  Tophet.  There  is  a  magnificence 

*  Jeremiah  viL  30 — 34.  t  1  Kincrs  xi.  1 — 10 

o 


THE  VALLEY  OF  JEHOSHAPHAT. 


259 


in  its  outlining  which  lives  in  the  memory.  It  cannot  be 
forgotten.  The  bed  of  the  brook  Kedron  lies  along  the  low¬ 
est  part  of  it;  and,  on  either  side — fig,  olive,  and  pome¬ 
granates  cast  a  lovely  shade,  while  gardens  of  melons  an<? 
cucumbers  give  an  idea  of  fresh  luxuriance.  On  either  side 
of  the  valley,  the  heights  are  terraced,  and  in  some  places 
slightly  cultivated  ;  and  the  breadth  of  the  valley  is  very 
bold  and  striking.  Independent  of  all  the  heart-stirring 
associations  which  Scripture  narrative  gives  rise  to,  the  valley 
of  Jehoshaphat,  viewed  from  south  to  north,  on  the  east  side 
of  the  city,  is  a  scene  in  which  a  gifted  painter  would  luxuri¬ 
ate.  On  the  right  slope  hangs  the  almost  ruined  village  of 
Siloam  ;  on  the  left,  Ophel,  Zion,  and  Mount  Moriah,  show¬ 
ing  the  noble  site  of  the  temple,  full  in  the  foreground  of  the 
picture,  magnificently.  Passing  off  again  to  the  right,  the 
eye  rests  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives,  with  its  twofold  ridge ; 
and  then,  glancing  downwards  and  along  the  shady  bed  of 
the  valley,  the  view  is  terminated  by  the  ridges  of  hills  north¬ 
ward  of  the  city.  The  sun  was  getting  low  when  I  first 
saw  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat  from  the  point  of  view  to  which 
I  have  referred  ;  and  the  deepened  and  lengthened  shadows, 
with  the  rich  tintings  of  the  sun,  gave  an  indescribable  lustre 
to  it.  It  was  a  truly  noble  landscape. 

The  Mahommedans  have  a  belief,  that  the  Prophet  will  sit 
in  judgment  at  the  last  day,  and  that  the  valley  of  Jehosha¬ 
phat  will  be  the  scene  of  that  transaction.  Projecting  from 
the  wall,  above  the  golden  gate,  towards  the  valley,  is  a  large 
stone,  which,  according  to  general  Mussulman  tradition,  will 
be  the  seat  of  judgment.  This  notion  may  somehow  have 
arisen  out  of  a  perverted  view  of  those  remarkable  passages 
in  the  prophet  Joel.#  “  For,  behold,  in  those  days,  and  in 
that  time,  when  I  shall  bring  again  the  captivity  of  Judah 
and  Jerusalem,  I  will  also  gather  all  nations,  and  will  bring 
them  down  into  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  and  will  plead 
with  them  there  for  my  people,  and  for  my  heritage  Israel 
whom  they  have  scattered  among  the  nations,  and  parted  my 

*  Chap.  iii.  1,  2,  12 — 16. 


260 


THE  VALLEY  OF  JEHOSHAPHAT. 


land . Let  the  heathen  be  awakened,  and  come  up 

to  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat ;  for  there  will  I  sit  to  judge  all 
the  heathen  round  about.  Put  ye  in  the  sickle  ;  for  the  har¬ 
vest  is  ripe  :  come  get  you  down  ;  for  the  press  is  full,  the 
fats  overflow ;  for  the  wickedness  is  great.  Multitudes,  mul¬ 
titudes  in  the  valley  of  decision  ;  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  is 
near  in  the  valley  of  decision.  The  sun  and  the  moon  shall 
be  darkened,  and  the  stars  shall  withdraw  their  shining.  The 
Lord  shall  roar  out  of  Zion,  and  utter  his  voice  from  Jerusa¬ 
lem  ;  and  the  heavens  and  the  earth  shall  shake  ;  but  the 
Lord  will  be  the  hope  of  his  people,  and  the  strength  of  the 
people  of  Israel.  ”  With  a  recollection  of  such  passages  as 
these  in  the  mind — as  yet  unfulfilled  by  any  events  now  on 
record,  there  is  a  deep  and  solemn  interest  attaching  itself  to 
every  part  of  this  noble  valley.  Whatever  may  be  the  full 
scope  of  the  prophecy — it  is  evidently  to  be  the  scene  of  one 
of  Jehovah’s  most  signal  interventions  on  behalf  of  his  peo¬ 
ple.  It  was,  indeed,  with  an  awed  mind  that  I  walked  in  the 
valley  of  Jehoshaphat.  There  I  felt  God  had  indeed  been — 
in  fulfilment  of  prophecy  ;  and  there  I  was  assured  he  will 
again  manifest  himself  in  the  triumphs  of  his  grace.  And  in 
this  consideration  lies  much  of  the  interest  which  one  feels 
while  sojourning  in  Jerusalem.  One  line  of  prophecy  has 
terminated  there  ;  and  others,  yet  in  the  womb  of  time,  are 
rapidly  tending  to  the  same  point.  What  a  concentration  of 
vast  interest,  then,  is  at  this  moment  overhanging  every  hair¬ 
breadth  of  that  wondrous  and  mysterious  spot  of  the  earth. 

Descending  the  high  places  of  Tophet,  we  entered  the  val¬ 
ley  of  Jehoshaphat  at  the  southern  end,  where  we  found  a 
threshing-floor,  with  several  Arabs  employed  in  winnowing 
corn.  In  the  midst  of  it  is  a  deep  ancient  well,  commonly 
called  Nehemiah’s  well ;  but  most  probably  it  is  En-rogel, 
that  is,  the  fuller’s  fountain,  which  is  described  in  the  book  of 
Joshua  as  being  on  the  south-east  of  Jerusalem,  on  the  con¬ 
fines  of  the  tribes  of  Judah  and  Benjamin.*  If  this  idea 
be  correct,  then  it  was -here  that  the  ambitious  aspirings  of 

*  Joshua  xv.  7,  8;  xviii.  16. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  JEHOSHAPHAT. 


261 


Adonijah  to  the  throne  of  Judah,  were  checked  by  the  joyous 
proclamation  that  Solomon  was  king  ;  for  we  read  that  Adoni¬ 
jah  slew  sheep  and  oxen  and  fat  cattle  by  the  stone  of  Zohe- 
leth,  which  is  by  En-rogel,  and  called  all  his  brethren  the 
kings  sons,  and  all  the  men  of  Judah  the  king’s  servants,  to 
feast  and  to  solemnize  his  anointing — “and,  behold,”  said  the 
prophet  Nathan,  u  they  eat  and  drink  before  him,  and  say,  God 
save  king  Adonijah.”  The  shout  was  borne  upon  the  breeze 
from  Gihon,  and  echoed  by  assembled  thousands,  “  so  that  the 

city  rang  again — God  save  king  Solomon.” . “  And 

all  the  guests  that  were  with  Adonijah  were  afraid,  and  rose 
up,  and  went  every  man  his  way.  And  Adonijah  feared  be¬ 
cause  of  Solomon,  and  arose,  and  went,  and  caught  hold  on 
the  horns  of  the  altar.”*  The  Arabs  now  call  this  well  JBir- 
Eyoub  (the  well  of  Joab),  perhaps  in  reference  to  the  part 
taken  by  Joab  in  the  memorable  transactions  just  referred  to. 

Not  far  from  this  spot,  but  nearer  towards  the  entrance  to 
the  valley  of  Hinnom,  stands  an  aged  white  mulberry  tree, 
casting  its  lengthened  and  spreading  limbs  over  a  wide  space, 
and  generally  affording  shade  to  Arabs  who  recline  beneath 
it  when  the  sun  is  high.  It  has  been  preserved  wiih  great 
care  ;  and  its  roots  are  fortified  by  a  terrace  or  platform  of 
rouMi  stones.  It  is  said  to  mark  the  scene  of  the  cruel  mar- 

O 

tyrdom  of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  by  the  command  of  Manasseh  ; 
but  upon  what  kind  of  proof  I  am  not  prepared  to  say. 

Further  on  in  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat  is  the  pool  of  Siloam, 
and  beyond  it  the  fountain  of  Siloam,  connected  by  an  under 
ground  conduit.  The  former  is  supplied  by  the  latter.  And 
have  these  waters  flowed  on  ever  since  the  day,  when  Jesus  said 
to  the  blind  man  (having  anointed  his  eyes  with  clay),  “  Go 
wash  in  the  pool  of  Siloam  ?”  Have  they  been  instrumental  to 
the  wonder-working  power  of  the  “Son  of  Man?”  Oh  delightful 
reality  to  be  assured  of,  when  seeking  the  stream  at  its  fountain  ! 

Passing  the  village  of  Siloam,  overhanging  the  valley  on 
the  right,  we  reached  the  fountain.  It  is  at  the  bottom  of  a 
deep  cavern — partly  artificial  as  I  conjecture,  and  approached 

*  See  the  whole  of  1  Kings,  i. 


262 


THE  VALLEY  OF  JEIIOSHAPHAT. 


by  two  flights  of  steps  formed  in  the  rock  itself,  worn  almost 
dangerously  smooth  by  frequent  use.  We  found  many  Arabs 
— men  and  women,  busily  employed  in  drawing  up  water  in 
skins,  standing  up  to  their  knees  in  the  fountain.  Sheep, 
camels,  and  other  cattle  from  Siloam,  were  waiting  around  to 
receive  their  portion.  We  descended,  but  were  prevented 
tasting  those  waters  “  that  go  softly,”*  by  reason  of  the  defile¬ 
ment  which  the  Arab  employment  occasioned.  But  it  is 
something  to  have  been  thus  permitted  to  gaze  on  them. 

The  valley  of  Jehoshaphat  and  its  massive  sides  are  rich 
in  objects  of  enduring  interest.  On  the  eastern  side  of  the 
brook  Kedron,  immediately  opposite  that  part  of  Mount  Mo¬ 
riah  once  occupied  by  the  temple,  is  the  Jewish  burial-ground 
of  all  ages.  It  is  literally  paved  with  small  and  roughly- 
hewn  slabs,  having  Hebrew  inscriptions.  To  lay  his  bones 
in  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  has  been  ever  the  object  of  ear¬ 
nest  desire  with  the  devout  Jew;  and  many  a  weary  pilgrim¬ 
age  has  been  made  from  the  most  distant  parts  of  Europe,  in 
order  that  another  and  another  might  have  the  privilege  of 
sleeping  with  his  fathers  in  this  valley.  The  Jewish  heart 
clings  with  infantine  freshness  to  Jerusalem  and  her  sacred 
precincts.  Distance  does  not  diminish  the  attraction.  Sorrow 
and  affliction  only  heighten  it.  But  is  it  not  an  awful,  an 
overwhelming  thought,  that  when  every  one  of  those  graves 
shall  be  opened  by  the  power  of  Christ’s  resurrection,  and 
buried  ages  shall  arise  and  stand  before  the  triumphant  Mes¬ 
siah,  their  eyes — the  eyes  of  them  that  pierced,  shall  gaze 
upon  him,  and  wail  because  of  him.f  and  mourn  hopelessly 
over  that  rooted  unbelief  which  obscured  every  bright  vision 
of  bliss  in  this  life,  and  which  will  overhang  with  clouds  of 
despair,  the  morning  of  their  resurrection  ? 

Advancing  northward,  with  the  Mount  of  Olives  still  on  the 
right,  and  the  battlemented  walls  of  the  city  on  the  left,  there 
are  on  the  east  side  of  the  valley,  several  sepulchral  monu¬ 
ments  of  considerable  antiquity,  rendered  interesting  by  being 
associated  with  the  names  of  Zechariah,  James,  Jehoshaphat, 


*  Isaiah  viii.  6. 


t  Revelation  i.  7. 


TOMBS  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  JEHOSHAPHAT. 


263 


and  Absalom  ;  in  support  of  which  there  is,  however,  little 
more  than  a  vague  tradition.  These  tombs,  for  the  most  part, 
have  the  appearance  of  being  constructed  by  the  usual  process 
of  masonry,  but  in  reality  they  are  hewn  out  of  the  solid 
rock  ;  and  in  a  style  of  architecture  partaking  of  the  early 
Egyptian,  and  the  Greek  ;  u  a  link,”  as  has  been  observed, 
“  between  the  Pyramids  and  the  Parthenon.”  No  entrance, 
either  to  the  tomb  of  Zechariah  or  Absalom,  has  yet  been 
discovered  ;  and  they  appear  in  reality  to  be  solid  within. 
Instead  of  actually  marking  the  place  of  sepulture,  it  seems 
most  probable  that  these  structures  are  merely  cenotaphs,  com¬ 
memorating  and  committing  to  tradition,  the  memory  of  those 
persons  whose  names  they  bear.  That  of  Absalom,  who  was 
no  doubt  buried  in  the  wood  where  he  perished,*  may  possi¬ 
bly  be  the  pillar  which  he  had  reared  unto  himself  in  the 
king’s  dale.f  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Jews  believe  this 
to  be  the  case  ;  and  they  express  their  abhorrence  of  his  name 
and  character  by  casting  a  stone  at  the  tomb  as  they  pass. 
Some  persons  have  argued  for  the  positive  antiquity  of  these 
tombs,  by  alleging  that  the  Grecian  enrichments  have  been 
added  in  a  more  modern  age  ;  and  that  such  is  the  “  garnish 
ingv  of  the  sepulchres  of  the  righteous  to  which  our  Lord  re 
ferred,  when  rebuking  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  for  their  hy¬ 
pocrisy.;};  But  Dr.  Clarke  rejects  the  idea  ;  and  thinks  that 
the  proof  of  their  antiquity  is  seen  in  the  tombs  themselves, 
notwithstanding  the  admixture  of  Egyptian  and  Grecian 
styles.  He  observes,  u  The  columns  are  of  that  ancient  style 
and  character  which  yet  appear  among  the  works  left  by 
Ionian  and  Dorian  colonies,  in  the  remains  ot  their  Asiatic 
cities  ;  particularly  at  Telmcssus,  where  even  the  inscriptions 
denote  a  period  in  history  long  anterior  to  the  era  when  such 
a  modification  of  these  ancient  structures  might  have  taken 
place.”§  However,  without  endeavoring  to  establish  what  at 
the  best  must  be  conjectural,  it  is  delightful  to  find  here,  un¬ 
der  the  very  walls  of  Jerusalem,  a  kind  of  evidence  to  prove 

*2  Samuel  xviii.  17.  t2  Samuel  xviii.  18.  +  Matthew  xxiii.  29. 

§  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke,  Vol.  IV.  373,  374. 


264 


GETHSEMANE. 


that  the  facts  of  Scripture  history  have  lived  in  the  memories 
of  men  of  far  distant  ages,  in  complete  correspondence  with 
the  inspired  records. 

Gethsemane.  u  Then  cometh  Jesus  with  them  unto  a 
place  called  Gethsemane,  and  saith  unto  the  disciples,  Sit  ye 
here  while  I  go  and  pray  yonder.  And  he  took  with  him 
Peter  and  the  two  sons  of  Zebedee,  and  began  to  be  sorrowful 
and  very  heavy  Then  saith  he  unto  them,  My  soul  is  ex¬ 
ceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death :  tarry  ye  here,  and  watch 
with  me.  And  he  went  a  little  further,  and  fell  on  his  face 
and  prayed  saying,  O  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup 
pass  from  me ;  nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt. 
And  he  cometh  unto  his  disciples  and  fmdeth  them  asleep, 
and  saith  unto  Peter,  What,  could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one 
hour?  Watch  and  pray  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation' 
the  spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is 'weak.  He  went 
away  again  the  second  time,  and  prayed  saying,  O  my  Father, 
if  this  cup  may  not  pass  away  from  me  except  I  drink  it,  thy 
will  be  done.  And  he  came  and  found  them  asleep  again  : 
for  their  eyes  were  heavy.  And  he  left  them,  and  went 
away  again,  and  prayed  the  third  time,  saying  the  same 
words.  1  And  there  appeared  an  Angel  unto  him  from 
heaven,  strengthening  him.  And  being  in  an  agony,  he 
prayed  more  earnestly:  and  his  sweat  was  as  it  were  great 
drops  of  blood  falling  down  to  the  ground.’*  Then  cometh 
he  to  his  disciples,  and  saith  unto  them,  Sleep  on  now,  and 
take  your  rest ;  behold  the  hour  is  at  hand,  and  the  Son  of 
man  is  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  sinners.  Rise,  let  us  be 
going  :  behold,  he  is  at  hand  that  doth  betray  me.  And 
while  he  yet  spake,  lo,  Judas,  one  of  the  twelve,  came,  and 
with  him  a  great  multitude  with  swords  and  staves,  from  the 
chief  priests  and  elders  of  the  people.  Now  he  that  betrayed 
him  gave  them  a  sign,  saying,  whomsoever  I  shall  kiss,  that 
same  is  he :  hold  him  fast.  And  forthwith  he  came  to  Jesus, 
and  said,  Flail  Master  ;  and  kissed  him.  And  Jesus  said 
unto  him,  Friend,  wherefore  art  thou  come?  Then  came 

*  Luke,  xxii.  43,  44. 


GETHSEMANE. 


265 


they  and  laid  hands  on  Jesus,  and  took  him.  And  behold, 
one  of  them  which  were  with  Jesus,  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  drew  his  sword,  and  struck  a  servant  of  the  High  Priest’s, 
and  smote  off  his  ear.  Then  said  Jesus  unto  him,  Put  up 
again  thy  sword  into  his  place :  for  all  they  that  take  the 
sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword.  Thinkset  thou  that  I  can¬ 
not  now  pray  to  my  Father,  and  he  shall  presently  give  me 
more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  ?  But  how  then  shall  the 
scriptures  be  fulfilled,  that  thus  it  must  be?  In  that  same 
hour  said  Jesus  to  the  multitudes,  Are  ye  come  out,  as  against 
a  thief,  with  swords  and  staves  for  to  take  me  ?  I  sat  daily 
with  you  teaching  in  the  temple,  and  ye  laid  no  hold  on  me 
But  all  this  was  done,  that  the  scriptures  of  the  prophets 
might  be  fulfilled.  Then  all  the  disciples  forsook  him  and 
fled.  And  they  that  had  laid  hold  on  Jesus,  led  him  away 
to  Caiaphas  the  high  priest,  where  the  scribes  and  the  elders 
were  assembled.”* 

This  narrative  must  be  understood  and  felt  in  its  mysterious 
bearing  upon  the  eternal  prospects  of  our  souls,  before  we 
can  tread  the  dust  of  Gethsemane  with  a  fitting  impression  of 
its  sanctity.  We  must  have  a  due  sense  of  the  marvellous 
nature  of  that  Almighty  Being,  from  whose  flesh  there  was 
drawn  forth  the  embittered  avowal — “  My  soul  is  exceeding 
sorrowful  even  unto  death we  must  have  some  acquaintance 
with  the  cause  of  that  deep  and  unutterable  anguish  of  soul 
which  forced  from  his  lips  the  reiterated  petition,  u  O  my 
Father,  if  it  be  possible  let  this  cup  pass  from  me;  neverthe¬ 
less  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt.”  And  we  must  feel,  too, 
that  calm  and  fixed  determination  of  heart  and  of  purpose 
with  which  he  stood  forth,  as  the  u  Captain  of  our  salvation,” 
to  be  made  “  perfect  through  sufferings,”  for  the  purpose  of 
u  bringing  many  sons  unto  glory nor  must  we  forget  how 
omnipotence  gave  way,  for  power  to  lay  its  malignant  and 
deadly  hand  upon  him — though  we  cannot  enter  into  the 
mystery  of  such  submission  ;  and  when  we  have  done  all  this, 
and  got  our  minds  imbued  with  the  deep  and  awful  pathos  of 

*  Matt.  xxvi.  36 — 57. 

23 


2  66 


GETHSEMANE. 


the  narrative,  we  have  gone  hut  little  way  if  we  cannot  add 
to  it  the  appropriating  assurance  of  faith,  and  say,  “  All  this 
was  for  me — a  lost  sinner,  and  for  my  redemption.” 

Are  you  thus  prepared? - Then,  come  to  Gethsemane! 

weep,  and  be  humbled  there  ;  and  thence  let  faith  go  upward 
on  her  saving  mission  to  the  mercy  seat.  Tears  of  blood 
were  there  shed  for  you  ;  and  faith  more  than  human,  was 
there  exercised  for  you ;  and  fidelity  unparalleled,  was  there 
displayed  on  your  behalf.  Come  as  a  sinner  should,  who 
knows  that  the  Father  “spared  not”  his  only  Son,  “but 
delivered  him  up” — on  that  very  spot — “for  us  all,”  into  the 
hand  of  cruel  and  wicked  men.  Alas!  for  the  cause  and 
the  need. 

At  the  base  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  just  over  the  brook 
Kedron,  where  the  road  to  Jericho  joins  that  to  Bethany,  on 
your  right  hand,  lies  a  bare  and  sterile  plat  of  ground  sur* 
rounded  by  a  wall  of  unhewn  stone.  It  is  shaded  by  eight 
aged  and  gnarled  olive  trees,  upon  which  the  suns  of  many 
centuries  have  risen  and  set.  It  is  a  place  of  loneliness  and 
seclusion,  overhung  by  the  Mount  of  Olives  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  western  heights  of  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat  and  the 
embattled  walls  of  Jerusalem  on  the  other.  It  is  just  such  a 
spot  as  a  soul,  desiring  to  be  alone  with  God,  would  choose, 
when  the  shades  of  evening  were  gathered  over  it.  Such  is 
Gethsemane.  I  have  gazed  down  upon  it  from  the  heights  on 
either  side.  I  have  traversed  again  and  again  its  length  and 
breadth.  I  have  mused  and  meditated  and  prayed  beneath  its 
venerable  shade  ;  and  in  my  mind  it  possesses  a  charm  beyond 
all  other  scenes  in  the  world ;  for  I  cannot  doubt — none  I  be¬ 
lieve  have  ever  doubted  of  its  identity. - And  to  think,  that 

to  that  very  spot,  “  Jesus  ofttimes  resorted  with  his  disciples 
— that  there  God  incarnate  walked  and  wept  and  agonized 
and  prayed  and  submitted  ! - 

That  the  olive  trees  now  growing  m  Gethsemane  have 
sprung  from  the  roots  of  those  existing  in  our  Lord’s  time,  is 
1  think  very  probable.  Their  size,  apparent  age  and  general 
character,  indicate  it.  It  is  likely  that  the  original  trees  were 


GETHSEM.ANE - THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 


267 


standing  when,  in  preparation  for  his  siege,  Titus  cut  down 
all  the  timber  around  the  city;  hut  there  is  no  reason  for  sup¬ 
posing  that  he  would  be  at  the  labor  and  cost  of  removing 
the  roots  of  trees  felled  for  such  a  purpose.  It  is  well  known 
that  the  bole  of  the  olive  tree,  when  its  trunk  has  been  felled, 
will  in  due  time  send  forth  shoots  or  suckers  in  great  numbers, 
which  grow  up  intertwined,  so  as  to  form  one  compacted 
stem.  Upon  a  careful  examination  of  some  of  these  venerable 
trees,  such  is  their  appearance.  They  bear  upon  them  the 
proof  of  having  grown  in  the  manner  I  have  described.  Their 
roots,  which  are  very  large  and  wide-spreading,  are,  in  many 
parts,  far  above  the  surface  of  the  soil.  They  are  protected 
by  earth  and  stones,  heaped  up  against  them.  At  the  south¬ 
eastern  corner  is  a  small  space  fenced  off,  which  tradition  has 
marked  as  the  scene  of  Judas’s  act  of  treachery.  It  is  called 
“  terra  damnata.”  Near  that  spot  is  a  ledge  of  rock  on  which 
it  is  said  the  disciples  reclined  when  “  their  eyes  were  heavy.” 
But  I  needed  not  this  attempt  at  minute  identification,  while 
I  knew,  that  somewhere  within  the  compass  of  that  small  plat 
of  ground,  the  Saviour  awaited  the  consummation  of  treachery, 
and  uttered  the  mild  remonstrance — u  Judas,  betrayest  thou 
the  Son  of  man  with  a  kiss  ?” 

The  Mount  of  Olives.  The  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  the 
Garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  the  Mount  of  Olives  are  as 
familiar  to  my  memory  while  I  write,  as  the  scenes  of  my 
early  childhood.  Scarcely  a  day  passed  in  which  I  did  not 
either  visit,  or  gaze  on  them  at  a  distance,  while  sojourning 
in  the  Holy  City.  Of  the  identity  of  the  Mount  of  Olives 
there  can  be  no  doubt  whatever.  Its  relative  position  is  dis¬ 
tinctly  stated  in  Scripture.  It  is  said  to  be  “before  Jerusalem 
on  the  east.”*  It  was  this  certainty,  in  regard  to  the  main 
features  of  Judea,  that  made  me  more  indifferent  to  those 
minute  particulars  on  which  religious  enthusiasts  have  been 
wont  to  dwell,  as  seen  by  them  through  the  misty  medium  of 
monkish  tradition. 

There  are  three  particulars  of  the  deepest  interest  which 


*  Zechariah  xiv.  3. 


268 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 


take  possession  of  the  mind  when  contemplating  the  Mount 
of  Olives.  The  first  is,  that  it  was  the  scene  of  David’s 
sorrow  and  humiliation,  when  he  fled  before  the  face  of 
Absalom.  The  whole  narrative!  is  affecting  in  the  highest 
degree  : — u  There  came  a  messenger  to  David,  saying,  The 
hearts  of  the  men  of  Israel  are  after  Absalom.  And  David 
said  unto  all  his  servants  that  were  with  him  at  Jerusalem, 
Arise,  and  let  us  flee ;  for  we  shall  not  else  escape  from 
Absalom.  Make  speed  to  depart,  lest  he  overtake  us  sudden¬ 
ly,  and  bring  evil  upon  us,  and  smite  the  city  with  the  edge 

of  the  sword . And  all  the  country  wept  with  a  loud 

voice,  and  all  the  people  passed  over ;  the  king  also  himself 
passed  over  the  brook  Kedron,  and  all  the  people  passed  over 
towards  the  way  of  the  wilderness.  And,  lo,  Zadok  also, 
and  all  the  Levites  were  with  him,  bearing  the  ark  of  the 
covenant  of  God:  and  they  set  down  the  ark  of  God:  and 
Abiathar  went  up,  until  all  the  people  had  done  passing  out 

of  the  city . And  David  went  up  by  the  ascent  of 

Mount  Olivet,  and  wept  as  he  went  up,  and  had  his  head 

covered  ;  and  he  went  barefoot :  and  all  the  people  that  was 
with  him  covered  every  man  his  head,  and  they  went  up, 
weeping  as  they  went  up.  And  one  told  David,  saying, 
Ahithophel  is  among  the  conspirators  with  Absalom.  And 
David  said,  O  Lord,  I  pray  thee,  turn  the  counsel  of  Ahitho¬ 
phel  into  foolishness.  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  when  David 

was  come  to  the  top  of  the  mount, . he  worshipped  God.” 

The  troubles  of  David  have  ceased  :  the  deceitful  counsel  of 
Ahithophel  prevails  not ;  the  treason  of  Absalom  is  powerless  1 
the  sound  of  weeping  is  hushed,  and  the  signs  of  humiliation 
are  no  longer  seen  :  the  dust  of  the  grave  is  mingled  with  the 
dust  of  David,  of  Zadok,  Abiathar,  and  the  multitudes  who 
accompanied  the  weeping  monarch — but — there  lies  the  path 
which  they  trod — it  is  the  same  :  the  bed  of  the  brook  Kedron 
is  the  same  :  the  Mount  of  Olives  is  the  same.  The  memory 
of  David,  of  his  glory  and  his  troubles,  has  long  grown  old  ; 

*  See  the  whole  of  2  Samuel  xv.  and  xvi. 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 


269 


but  the  scenes  in  which  he  wept  and  worshipped  and 
triumphed,  are  the  realities  of  all  time. 

But  a  greater  and  more  glorious  one  than  David,  and  one 
more  humbled  and  abased  than  he,  has  sanctified  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  with  his  frequent — his  habitual  presence.  It  was 
Jesus  of  Nazareth — God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  Yes — God 
incarnate  trod  those  very  paths,  which  my  sinful  feet  so 
often  pressed  ;  and  ascended  those  slopes,  over  which  I  many 
times  essayed  to  follow  him  in  spirit.  If  He  chose  the  Gar¬ 
den  of  Gethsemane  and  its  lonely  seclusion,  as  the  scene  of 
his  last  spiritual  agony  before  his  betrayal,  it  was  to  the 
Mount  of  Olives  that  he  resorted — from  the  din  and  stir  of  the 
city,  and  the  strife  of  tongues — to  pour  out  his  soul  in  secret 
communion  with  the  Father,  to  meditate  on  the  marvels  and 
mysteries  of  redemption,  and  to  brace  up  his  human  energies 
for  an  achievement,  the  glory  of  which  should  be  seen 
throughout  the  world,  and  felt  eternally  in  the  universe.  If 
it  was  on  Calvary  that  he  determined,  by  dying,  to  abolish 
death  and  to  bring  immortality  to  light  by  the  gospel — it  was 
from  Mount  Olivet  that  he  ascended  up  on  high — leading 
captivity  captive  ;  and  it  was  there  too  that  he  condescended 
to  give  to  his  church  one  of  the  most  distinct  assurances  of 
his  second  coming  ;  for  while  his  wondering  disciples  beheld 
him  taken  up,  and  the  cloud  receiving  him  out  of  their  sight 
— behold  two  men  stood  by  them  in  white  apparel  (heavenly 
messengers  of  his  own  providing),  who  also  said,  Ye  men  of 
Galilee,  why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven  ?  This  same 
Jesus,  which  is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come 
in  like  manner,  as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven.*  And 
if  there  was  any  thing  capable  of  nerving  the  hearts  of  his 
amazed  disciples  in  the  prospect  of  being  left  in  trust  with  the 
gospel,  in  the  midst  of  a  stubborn  and  perverse  generation, 
who  had  imbrued  their  hands  in  his  blood — and  cried — “  His 
blood  be  upon  us  and  upon  our  children  if  any  thing  that 
could  make  them  hopeful  and  determined  in  the  fulfilment 
of  their  high  commission  derived  from  him — it  was  the  pro- 

*  See  Acts  i.  9 — 11. 

23* 


270 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 


mise  and  divine  assurance  which  he  gave  them  on  thatsacied 
mount — “Ye  shall  receive  power,  after  that  the  Holy  Ghost 
is  come  upon  you,  and  ye  shall  be  witnesses  unto  me,  both  in 
Jerusalem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria,  and  unto  the 
uttermost  part  of  the  earth.”  How  afFectingly  solemn  must 
have  been  the  picture,  when  the  bereaved  disciples,  with 
heads  bowed  low  upon  their  bosoms,  returned  down  those 
venerated  heights — glanced  with  absorbing  recollection  on 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  as  they  passed,  and  entered  the 
Holy  City,  which  had  so  recently  been  the  scene  of  the  most 
marvellous  transactions  ever  recorded,  either  in  the  word  of 
truth  or  in  the  heart  of  man ;  how  heart-stirring  must  have 
been  the  first  solemn  meeting — in  that  “  upper  room,  where 
abode,  both  Peter  and  James  and  John  and  Andrew,  Philip 
and  Thomas,  Bartholomew  and  Matthew,  James  the  son  of 

«r 

Alpheus,  and  Simon  Zelotes,  and  Judas  the  brother  of  James,” 
where  they  “  all  continued  with  one  accord  in  prayer  and 
and  supplication,  with  the  women,  and  Mary  the  mother  of 
Jesus  and  with  his  brethren.”  And  it  is  a  deep  sense  and 
perception  of  these  things,  in  all  their  reality,  with  more  than 
the  heart  can  utter  as  associated  with  them,  which  pervades 
the  mind,  when  standing  under  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  and 
gazing  upwards  to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  I  never  felt — more 
than  at  this  moment,  while  I  am  writing,  the  feebleness  of  a 
man’s  pen  to  develop  to  others  the  inward  impressions  of  his 
heart,  made  by  an  undoubted  sense  of  divine  truths,  and  the 
presence  of  scenes  from  which  they  sprung  forth  in  all  their 
vastness  and  magnificence.  As  a  redeemed  soul — I  stood 
amidst  the  scenes  of  my  redemption.  Faith  could  look 
around  ;  and  without  a  single  doubt  to  break  in  upon  the 
absorbing  vision,  could  exclaim — here,  from  this  very  spot 
has  burst  forth  every  ray  of  that  blessed  hope,  to  which 
the  tearful  eyes  of  guilty,  repenting  and  believing  men  may 
securely  turn. 

There  is  a  day  coming  (is  it  far  distant? — Lord  hasten  it !) 
a  day  in  which  there  will  be  heard  a  cry  which  sin  shall  not 
check  nor  prejudice  confound,  nor  unbelief  stifle — a  cry  that 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 


271 


shall  ring-  throughout  Jerusalem,  and  on  the  top  of  every 
mountain,  and  in  the  depths  of  every  valley  of  Judea ;  thou* 
sands  shall  utter  it ;  thousands  shall  rejoice  in  it ;  millions 
will  wither  at  it ;  the  dead  shall  hear  it  from  the  dust  of  dis¬ 
solution  in  which  they  have  slumbered  since  the  streams  of 
time  flowed  on  with  those  of  death  ;  and  the  cry  will  bo — 
“  Blessed  be  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
and  Mount  Olivet  will  be  the  scene,  not  of  a  Saviour’s  hu¬ 
miliation  as  it  has  been,  but  of  his  final  and  glorious  triumph, 
when  he  shall  come  to  gather  all  nations — to  bring  them 
down  into  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  and  to  plead  with  them 
there  for  his  people  and  for  his  heritage  Israel:  when  the 
heathen  shall  be  awakened  and  come  up  into  the  valley  of 
Jehoshaphat,  and  when  He  will  sit  to  judge  all  the  heathen 
round  about :  yes — u  His  feet  shall  stand  in  that  day  upon 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  which  is  before  Jerusalem  on  the  east  ; 
and  the  Mount  of  Olives  shall  cleave  in  the  midst  thereof  to¬ 
ward  the  east  and  toward  the  west,  and  there  shall  be  a  very 
great  valley :  and  half  of  the  mountain  shall  remove  toward 
the  north,  and  half  of  it  toward  the  south.”*  What  a  cluster¬ 
ing  of  august  associations  does  the  mind  at  once  perceive 
around  the  Mount  of  Olives.  The  lapse  of  more  than  eighteen 
centuries  has  not  diminished,  but  heightened  them. 

With  humbled  and  adoring  hearts,  let  us  ascend  the  Mount. 
As  we  pass  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane — let  us  pause  a  mo¬ 
ment,  and  weep  with  the  tears  of  a  godly  sorrow,  and  believe 
with  renewed  energy  of  faith.  It  were  a  blessed  exercise  for 
the  soul. 

Those  two  rugged  pathways  which  mark  the  face  of  the 
Mount,  and  a  third  which  winds  off  to  the  south,  under  its 
brow,  all  lead  to  Bethany.  Fig,  olive,  and  pomegranate  trees 
overshadow  them  here  and  there.  The  ascent  is  sometimes 
steep ;  but  the  emotions  of  the  heart  give  agility  to  the  foot¬ 
steps.  Midway  upwards,  we  reach  the  spot  from  which  tra¬ 
dition  says  that  the  Lord  Jesus  beheld  Jerusalem  and  wept 
over  it — a  point  from  which  every  part  of  the  city  is  visible  1 

*  Zechariah  xiv.  4. 


272 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 


and  it  seems  to  stand  on  an  elevation  equal  to  that  from  which 
it  is  viewed,  while  the  extreme  clearness  of  the  atmosphere 
helps  to  exhibit  its  details  in  all  their  minuteness.  When 
Jesus  beheld  the  city  and  wept  over  it — the  temple  was  there 
— in  the  fore  front,  on  Mount  Moriah  ;  and  the  glory  which 
has  departed,  was  there  too.  The  Jewish  heart  was  big  with 
its  own  vain  swellings ;  and  pride  and  unbelief  were  at  their 
height  amidst  the  thousands  of  Jerusalem,  while  Jesus  gazed 
on  their  noble  habitation,  and  traced  the  secret,  as  well  as  the 
open  workings  of  every  soul  within  it,  and  knew  the  inten¬ 
tions  of  the  Father’s  mind,  while  he  yearned  over  a  people 
whom  he  loved  even  in  their  apostacy  and  hardness.  Oh!  it 
was  an  awful  moment.  “  When  he  was  come  near,  he  be¬ 
held  the  city  and  wept  over  it,  saying,  If  thou  hadst  known, 
even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong 
unto  thy  peace  !  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes.  For 
the  days  shall  come  upon  thee,  that  thine  enemies  shall  cast 
a  trench  about  thee,  and  compass  thee  round,  and  keep  thee 
in  on  every  side,  and  shall  lay  thee  even  with  the  ground, 
and  thy  children  within  thee:  and  they  shall  not  leave  in 
thee  one  stone  upon  another;  because  thou  knewest  not  the 
time  of  thy  visitation.”*  It  was  indeed  a  heart-stirring  thing, 
to  hear,  as  it  were,  on  that  very  spot  within  sight  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem  herself,  the  voice  of  Jesus  speaking  as  a  prophet ;  and, 
looking  forwards  and  around,  to  behold  the  real  traces  of  an 
exact  fulfilment,  achieved  by  himself  as  the  mighty  God  of 
Hosts.  History  became  reality  as  we  gazed  upon  the  scene. 

The  view  from  the  western  slopes  of  the  Mount  of  Olives 
is,  as  a  picture  only,  extremely  magnificent — color,  form,  com¬ 
position — all  are  in  the  finest  order :  but  the  mind,  however, 
touched  by  such  things  as  these,  in  scenes  with  which  no 
hallowing  recollection  is  associated,  soon  wanders  from  the 
mere  picture,  and  gives  itself  up  to  reflectiveness.  On  what 
do  my  eyes  now  rest?  On  Mount  Moriah ;  and  one  seems  to 
hear  a  voice,  sounding  back  from  buried  ages — “  My  father, 
behold  the  fire  and  the  wood,  but  where  is  the  lamb  for  a 

*  Luke  xix,  41 — 44. 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 


273 


burnt  offering  ?”  I  continue  to  gaze,  and  think  how  David 
the  king,  when  the  Lord  sent  an  angel  to  Jerusalem  to  de¬ 
stroy  it  with  pestilence  because  he  had  numbered  the  people> 
lifted  up  his  eyes  and  saw  the  angel  of  the  Lord  stand  be¬ 
tween  the  earth  and  the  heaven,  having  a  sword  drawn  in  his 
hand,  stretched  out  over  Jerusalem ;  and  how  he  and  the  el¬ 
ders  of  Israel,  who  were  clothed  in  sackcloth,  fell  upon  their 
faces  :  and  how  David  said  unto  God,  u  Is  it  not  I  that  com¬ 
manded  the  people  to  be  numbered  ?  Even  I  it  is  that  have 
sinned  and  done  evil  indeed :  but  as  for  these  sheep,  what 
have  they  done  ?  Let  thine  hand  I  pray  thee,  O  Lord  my 
God,  be  on  me  and  on  my  father’s  house,  but  not  on  thy  peo¬ 
ple  that  they  should  be  plagued.”  It  seems  but  the  transac¬ 
tion  of  yesterday.  And  as  I  still  linger  about  the  Holy  City 
and  its  precincts,  I  remember  that  there  God  dwelt  between 
the  cherubim  in  the  house  which  Solomon  had  built  for  Him, 
whom  the  heaven  and  the  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain : 
that  there,  morning  and  evening,  was  slain  the  lamb  which 
typified  an  availing  sacrifice  under  a  better  covenant ;  that 
there  too,  the  testimony  was  given,  that  the  way  into  the 
holiest  by  the  blood  of  Jesus  was  made  manifest,  by  the  rend¬ 
ing  of  the  vail  of  the  temple  from  the  top  to  the  bottom ;  that 
not  far  distant  was  heard,  amidst  the  prevailing  darkness, 
from  the  sixth  to  the  ninth  hour,  that  bitter  and  mysterious 
cry — Eli,  Eli.  lama  sabadhani — My  God,  my  God,  why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me?  and  the  last  agonizing,  triumphant  de¬ 
claration — “  It  is  finished  /” — that  there  the  earth  did  quake, 
and  the  rocks  were  rent,  and  the  graves  were  opened  ;  that 
there  too,  after  an  awful  and  dread  suspense,  the  purpose  of 
God  in  Christ,  prevailed  over  unbelieving  malignity — and 
the  fact  was  divinely  declared — •“  I  know  that  ye  seek  Jesus 
which  was  crucified.  He  is  not  here ;  for  He  rs  risen,  as  he 
said.” 

The  view  from  the  Mount  and  from  its  slopes  eastward,  is 
extensive  and  delightful ;  embracing,  as  it  does,  so  many  in¬ 
teresting  Scripture  localities,  such  as  the  chain  of  the  moun¬ 
tains  of  Moab,  and  parts  of  the  Dead  Sea,  towards  the  east 


274 


BETHANY. 


and  south-east — the  valley,  and  part  of  the  plains  of  Jordan 
and  beyond  these,  though  not  admitting  of  exact  distinction, 
are  Bethpeor,  Gilead,  Pisgah,  and  the  height  of  Mount  Nebo: 
while  to  the  north-west  stands  Ramah — the  birth-place  of 
Samuel.  In  the  foreground,  on  every  side,  the  eye  traverses  a 
vast,  ocean-like  undulation  of  hare  and  arid  mountain-tops 
and  valleys.  On  the  eastern  side  of  the  Mount,  about  two 
miles  distant  from  Jerusalem,  lies  Bethany — that  centre  point 
of  so  many  tender  and  delightful  recollections — but  not  visible 
from  any  spot  that  I  could  find.  I  gathered  a  few  olive 
leaves  from  the  sacred  and  venerable  soil ;  and  when  I  look 
on  them,  my  mind  is  crowded  with  associations  which  cannot 
pass  away  while  the  power  of  memory  lasts.  I  quit  the 
Mount  of  Olives  with  reluctance.  I  could  invite  my  reader  to 
wander  about  it  with  me  for  hours ;  but  my  narrow  limits 
forbid  the  enjoyment. 

Bethany.  It  was  the  home  of  Martha,  of  Mary,  and  of 
Lazarus.  It  was  our  blessed  Lord’s  chosen  and  beloved  place 
of  resort ;  and  where  words  of  heavenly  wisdom  flowed  from 
his  lips  into  the  ears  of  the  listening,  attentive  Mary.  How 
often  his  sacred  feet  have  pressed  the  path  by  which  we 
approached ;  and  how  honored  was  it  on  that  memorable 
occasion,  when  there  was  fulfilled  in  him  the  saying  of  the 
prophet — “  Tell  ye  the  daughter  of  Zion,  Behold  thy  king 
cometh  unto  thee,  meek  and  sitting  upon  an  ass,  and  a  colt, 
the  foal  of  an  ass,”  and  when  a  very  great  multitude  spread 
their  garments  in  the  way  ;  while  others  cut  down  branches 
from  the  trees  and  strewed  them  in  the  way  •  and  when  the 
multitudes  that  went  before,  and  that  followed,  cried,  saying 
Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David !  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord;  Hosanna  in  the  highest.* 

It  was  a  lovely  afternoon  when  we  set  out  for  Bethany. 
And  Bethany  is  a  lovely  spot,  though  but  a  scene  of  ruin  and 
poverty.  It  is  inhabited  by  a  few  families  of  Fallaheen 
Arabs,  who  gain  a  scanty  subsistence  from  their  flocks,  and 
small  cultivation  round  about.  Though  occupying  an  ele- 

*  Matthew  xxi.  8,  &c. 


BETHANY. 


275 


vated  site,  it  is  yet  overshadowed,  on  the  north  and  west,  by 
the  Mount  of  Olives ;  and,  looking  towards  the  south-east, 
presents  a  view  of  parts  of  the  plains  of  Jordan  and  the  Dead 
Sea.  It  is  rather  thickly  surrounded  and  interspersed  with 
fig,  almond,  olive  and  pomegranate  trees ;  and  though  the  soi . 
is  good,  yet,  for  the  most  part,  it  lies  miserably  neglected.  I 
is  a  place  of  the  most  charming  seclusion,  such  as  imagination 
would  picture  as  a  fitting  scene  for  that  retirement  which  the 

quiet  spirit  of  our  adorable  Redeemer  loved  and  sought.  - - 

And  where  is  Lazarus — where  Mary — where  Martha?  And 
where  is  the  roof  under  which  the  family  which  Jesus  loved, 
so  frequently  received  their  divine  and  condescending  guest? 
Where  was  it  that  Jesus  and  Mary  sat — when  with  tender  ear¬ 
nestness  he  reproved  the  “cumbered”  Martha,  admonishing  her 
that  but  one  thing  was  needful,  and  reminding  her  that  Mary 
had  chosen  the  good  part  which  should  not  be  taken  from  her? 
Where  too  is  the  tomb  at  which  “  Jesus  wept,”  and  in  the 
energy  of  his  resurrection-power,  cried  “  Lazarus,  come  forth,” 
and  “  he  that  was  dead  came  forth,  bound  hand  and  foot  with 
grave  clothes  ?”  Tradition  only  is  left  to  give  the  doubtful 
answer ;  and  it  is  enough  for  the  heart  in  which  a  realizing 
faith  has  taken  up  its  abode.  This  thought  I,  is  Bethany — 
of  that  fact  there  is  no  doubt.  And  hereabouts,  Martha,  Mary 
and  Lazarus  dwelt — here  Jesus  sojourned — here  Lazarus 
arose  from  the  dead.  It  was  not  with  any  strong  sense  of 
identity,  that  I  descended  into  the  tomb  to  which  local  tradition 
directed  us.  I  just  felt  that  it  might  be  so  ;  and  that  there,  in 
that  dark  cavern,  Jesus  gave  proof  of  his  declaration — “  I  am 
the  resurrection  and  the  life,5'  The  descent  to  the  tomb, 
shown  as  that  of  Lazarus,  is  made  by  twenty-six  steps, 
formed  from  the  rock  in  which  the  tomb  itself  has  been  cut. 
It  is  perfectly  dark,  and  can  be  explored  only  by  the  light  of 
tapers.  The  steps  lead  to  a  chamber  of,  perhaps,  twelve  feet 
square,  and  of  sufficient  height  for  a  person  to  stand  without 
stooping.  From  this  there  is  a  second  descent,  communicating 
with  a  smaller  vault,  but  of  sufficient  size  to  hold  three  or  four 
bodies.  This  latter  is  said  to  be  the  place  of  sepulture  from 


276 


BETHANY - THE  ROAD  TO  EMMAUS. 


which  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus  was  effected.  I  have  no 
satisfactory  grounds  on  which  to  doubt  the  actual  identity  of 
this  tomb ;  and  the  disposition  of  my  mind  is  rather  to  cherish 
than  discard  this  idea.  But  whether  the  tradition  be  rightly 
founded  or  not.  yet  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  exhibits  the  kind 
of  tomb  in  which  the  dead  body  of  Lazarus  was  laid.  We 
found  some  pilgrims  at  Bethany — Russians  and  Germans — 
who  seemed  fully  to  enter  into  the  tradition. 

The  recollection  of  Bethany,  with  its  charming  seclusion 
and  holy  associations,  often  steals  through  my  mind,  when 
anxiety  and  care  and  trial  make  my  heart  crave  for  repose. 
But — farewell  to  Bethany,  in  its  reality.  The  mental  picture 
is  as  permanent  as  the  mind  on  which  it  is  traced.  We 
returned  to  Jerusalem  by  the  southern  height  of  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  through  the  village  of  Siloam,  the  valley  of  Hinnom, 
and  entered  by  the  Zion  gate. 

The  Road  to  Emmaus,  &c.  Quitting  Jerusalem  at  the 
Bethlehem  gate,  you  wind  off  in  a  north-westerly  direction, 
and  soon  enter  upon  the  road  leading  to  Emmaus,  Jaffa,  and 
Ramleh.  We  did  not  visit  Emmaus,  but  were  desirous  of 
traversing  some  part  of  that  road  in  which  the  Lord  Jesus 
presented  himself  to  two  of  the  disciples  after  his  resurrection. 
The  distance  of  the  remains  of  Emmaus  from  Jerusalem 
exactly  accords,  I  believe,  with  the  Scripture  narrative,  which 
makes  it  “about  threescore  furlongs.”  I  thought  of  those  two 
disciples  as  they  journeyed  on,  talking  together  of  the  marvel¬ 
lous  things  which  had  recently  happened  in  Jerusalem  ;  and 
of  Jesus  drawing  near  to  them  as  they  communed  together 
and  reasoned : — “  What  manner  of  communications  are  these 

that  ye  have  one  to  another,  as  ye  walk  and  are  sad  ?” . 

.  .  .  “  Art  thou  only  a  stranger  in  Jerusalem,  and  hast  not 
known  the  things  which  are  come  to  pass  in  these  days?” 

. “  What  things  ?” . “  Concerning  Jesus  of 

Nazareth,  which  was  a  prophet  mighty  in  deed  and  word 
before  God  and  all  the  people ;  and  how  the  chief  priests  and 
our  rulers  delivered  him  to  be  condemned  to  death,  and  have 
crucified  him.  But  we  trusted  that  it  had  been  he  which 


THE  ROAD  TO  EMMAUS.  277 

should  have  redeemed  Israel ;  and,  besides  all  this,  to-day  is 
the  third  day  since  these  things  were  done.  Yea,  and  certain 
women  also  of  our  company  made  us  astonished,  which  were 
early  at  the  sepulchre ;  and  when  they  found  not  his  body, 
they  came,  saying  that  they  had  also  seen  a  vision  of  angels, 
which  said  that  he  was  alive.  And  certain  of  them  which 
were  with  us  went  to  the  sepulchre,  and  found  it  even  as  the 

women  had  said  ;  but  him  they  saw  not.” . “O  fools, 

and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets  have  spoken ! 
Ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter 
into  his  glory?  And  beginning  at  Moses,  and  all  the  prophets 
he  expounded  unto  them  in  all  the  scriptures  the  things  con 
cerning  himself.”  While  dwelling  on  this  affecting  narrative, 

I  eould  well  conceive  of  the  two  disciples  saying,  “  Did  not 
our  heart  burn  within  us,  while  he  talked  with  us  by  the  way, 
and  while  he  opened  to  us  the  Scriptures?”  Of  what  a 
heavenly  teaching,  from  the  lips  of  the  risen  Saviour,  was  this 
road  to  Emmaus  the  scene.  What  a  grasp  of  exposition — 
beginning  at  Moses  and  the  prophets — passing  through  all 
the  Scriptures !  Prophecy  and  type,  shadow  and  symbol — all 
brought  out  in  their  full  blaze  of  truth,  were  made  to  concen¬ 
trate  their  bright  rays  in  one  focus  upon  himself. 

The  road  to  Emmaus  is  evidently  the  ancient  one.  It  is 
now  extremely  rugged,  and  covered  with  large  rough  stones. 
From  this  road  we  turned  off  after  a  while,  upon  that  leading 
to  Damascus.  I  thought  of  Saul,  who  on  that  very  road 
went  forth,  in  the  days  of  his  unholy  and  misdirected  zeal, 

II  breathing  out  threaten ings  and  slaughter  against  the  disci¬ 
ples  of  the  Lord  ;”  and  I  could  but  contrast  the  spirit  in 
which  he  returned  to  Jerusalem,  having  seen  the  Lord  by  the 
way.  He  went  forth  a  bitter  persecutor.  He  returned  a 
humble  and  devoted  believer.  Turning  off  again  towards 
the  north,  into  the  valley  of  the  Kedron,  we  proceeded  to  visit 
u  the  tombs  of  the  kings,”  as  they  are  usually  called  ;  but  as 
it  would  seem  without  sufficient  warrant.  The  royal  place 
of  sepulture  was,  in  all  probability,  within  the  walls  of  the 
city — on  Mount  Zion.  The  tombs  are,  however,  exceedingly 

24 


278 


TOMBS  OF  THE  KINGS. 


curious,  and  serve  admirably  to  illustrate  the  manner  of  se¬ 
pulture  among  the  wealthier  Jews  ;  and  were  such,  no  doubt, 
as  Job  had  in  mind,  when  he  said,  u  Now  should  I  have  lain 
still  and  been  quiet,  I  should  have  slept ;  then  had  I  been  at 
rest  with  kings  and  counsellors  of  the  earth,  which  built  de¬ 
solate  places  for  themselves.”* 

A  path  hewn  in  the  rock  leads  down  into  a  large  area,  in 
which  stands  a  bold  and  spreading  mulberry  tree.  The 
sides  of  the  area  are  carefully  squared.  The  entrance  to  the 
sepulchres  is  in  the  form  of  a  portico,  with  exquisitely  en 
riched  cornices,  and  entablature,  in  which  fruits  and  foliage 
are  the  principal  ornaments.  There  is  a  great  freshness 
still  visible  in  this  elaborate  sculpture.  On  the  left  side  of 
the  portico,  is  the  direct  way  of  access  to  the  several  cham¬ 
bers  ;  but  so  blocked  up  with  stones  as  to  be  approached 
only  by  considerable  compression  of  the  limbs.  I  cannot 
give  so  good  a  description  of  the  interior  as  that  already  af¬ 
forded  by  Maundrell.  “  But  within,  you  arrive  in  a  large  fair 
room,  about  seven  or  eight  yards  square,  cut  out  of  the  na¬ 
tural  rock.  Its  sides  and  ceiling  are  so  exactly  square,  and  its 
angles  so  just,  that  no  architect  with  levels  and  plummets 
could  build  a  room  more  regular  ;  and  the  whole  is  so  firm 
and  entire,  that  it  may  be  called  a  chamber  hollowed  out  of 
one  piece  of  marble.  From  this  room  you  pass  into  six  more, 
one  within  another,  all  of  the  same  fabric  with  the  first. 
Of  these,  the  two  innermost  are  deeper  than  the  rest,  having 
a  second  descent  of  about  six  or  seven  steps  into  them.” 

“  In  every  one  of  these  rooms,  except  the  first,  were  coffins 
of  stone,  placed  in  niches  in  the  sides  of  the  chambers.  They 
had  been  at  first  covered  with  handsome  lids,  and  carved 
with  garlands  ;  but  now,  most  of  them  were  broke  to  pieces 
by  sacrilegious  hands.  The  sides  and  ceilings  of  the  rooms 
were  always  dropping  with  the  moist  damps  condensing  upon 
them,  to  remedy  which  nuisance,  and  to  preserve  these  cham¬ 
bers  of  the  dead  polite  and  cleap,  there  was  in  each  room  a 
small  channel  cut  in  the  floor,  which  served  to  drain  the  drops 

*  Job  iii.  13,  14. 


TOMBS  OF  THE  KTNGS - A  LUNATIC. 


that  fall  constantly  into  it.  But  the  most  surprising  thing 
belonging'  to  these  subterraneous  chambers,  was  their  doors, 
of  which  there  is  only  one  that  remains  hanging,  being  left, 
as  it  were,  on  purpose  to  puzzle  beholders.  It  consisted  of  a 
plank  of  stone,  of  about  six  inches  in  thickness,  and  in  its 
other  dimensions  equalling  the  size  of  an  ordinary  door,  or 
somewhat  less.  It  was  carved  rn  such  a  manner  as  to  resem¬ 
ble  a  piece  of  wainscot.  The  stone  of  which  it  was  made, 
was  visibly  of  the  same  kind  with  the  whole  rock  ;  and  it 
turned  upon  two  hinges  in  the  nature  of  axles.  These  hinges 
were  of  the  same  entire  piece  of  stone  with  the  door,  and 
were  contained  in  two  holes  of  the  immoveable  rock,  one  at 
the  top  and  the  other  at  the  bottom.”* 

As  we  were  returning  we  found  a  poor  lunatic  woman, 
whose  dwelling  was  among  the  tombs,  sitting  on  some  frag¬ 
ments  of  stone.  We  were  informed  that  there  were  two 
others,  in  like  manner  inhabiting  those  scenes  of  death  and 
decay  ;  but  we  saw  only  this  one.  She  was  a  melancholy 
object.  It  is  a  common  thing  now,  as  in  our  Lord’s  time,  for 
helpless  lunatics  thus  to  flee  from  the  ordinary  habitations  of 
men,  and  to  dwell  in  a  restless  secluded  manner  among  the 
tombs.  There  was  a  day,  when  a  voice  could  have  said, 
“  Come  forth  thou  unclean  spirit,”  and  its  behest  would  have 
been  obeyed,  leaving  the  poor  sufferer  sitting  clothed,  and  in 
her  right  mind.  But  that  day  is  now  past. 

Riding  towards  the  northern  side  of  the  city,  we  went 
through  extensive  olive  grounds,  a  few  vineyards,  and  several 
plats  of  ground  planted  with  tobacco  ;  and  having  approached 
near  the  Damascus  gate,  we  visited  a  cave  formed  in  a  ledge 
of  rock,  said  by  the  monks,  to  be  the  place  in  which  Jeremiah 
wrote  his  book  of  Lamentations  ;  and  also  a  muddy  subterra¬ 
neous  place,  affirmed  to  be  the  dungeon,  the  filthy  dungeon 
in  which  the  prophet  was  so  cruelly  confined  by  consent  of 

*  Maundrell’s  Journey  from  Aleppo  to  Jerusalem,  pp.  76,  77;  edition, 
1721.  The  door  referred  to  by  Maundrell  has  been  removed  from  its 
place,  and  now  lies  on  the  floor. 


280 


THE  POOL  OF  BETHESDA. 


king  Zedekiah,  till  delivered  through  the  interference  of 
Ebed  Melech.#  But  where  is  the  proof? 

The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  Just  within  the  walls  of  the 
city,  on  the  eastern  side,  and  near  St.  Stephen’s  gate,  is  a  dry 
reservoir,  the  dimensions  of  which  are — length,  three  hun¬ 
dred  and  sixty  feet ;  breadth,  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet ; 
depth,  about  seventy  feet.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  parapet ;  and 
on  the  north  and  west  particularly,  it  is  surmounted  by  the 
buildings  of  the  city.  It  is  a  deposit  for  rubbish,  and  contains 
in  some  parts  an  overgrowth  of  herbage  and  a  few  trees. 
This  is  generally  affirmed  to  be  the  pool  of  Bethesda.  Its 
position  renders  it  credible.  The  pool  of  Bethesda  was  cer¬ 
tainly  near  the  site  of  the  temple,  as  this  is,  and  not  far  dis¬ 
tant  from  one  of  the  city  gates.  This,  as  I  have  already  said, 
is  near  St.  Stephen’s  gate.  And  besides,  there  is  no  other 
spot  in  Jerusalem,  at  the  present  day,  which  can  support  a 
counter  claim.  Often,  as  I  passed  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  did 
my  mind  recur  to  that  affecting  narrative — “  Now  there  is  at 
Jerusalem,  by  the  sheep  market,  a  pool,  which  is  called  in  the 
Hebrew  tongue,  Bethesda,  having  five  porches.  In  these  lay 
a  great  multitude  of  impotent  folk,  of  blind,  halt,  withered, 
waiting  for  the  moving  of  the  water.  For  an  angel  went  down 
at  a  certain  season  into  the  pool,  and  troubled  the  water  ;  who¬ 
soever  then  first,  after  the  troubling  of  the  water,  stepped  in, 
was  made  whole  of  whatsoever  disease  he  had.  And  a  cer¬ 
tain  man  was  there,  which  had  an  infirmity  thirty  and  eight 
years.  When  Jesus  saw  him  lie,  and  knew  that  he  had  been 
now  a  long  time  in  that  case,  he  saith  unto  him,  Wilt  thou  be 
made  whole  ?  The  impotent  man  answered  him,  Sir,  I  have 
no  man,  when  the  waters  are  troubled,  to  put  me  into  the 
pool  :  but  while  I  am  coming  another  steppeth  down  before 
me.  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Rise,  take  up  thy  bed  and  walk. 
And  immediately  the  man  was  made  whole,  and  took  up  his 
bed  and  walked.”! 

Having  now  touched,  as  far  as  my  limits  will  allow,  upon 


♦Jeremiah  xxxviii. 


t  John  v.  2 — 9. 


MY  FIRST  SABBATH  IN  JERUSALEM. 


281 


the  principal  scenes  and  objects  of  sacred  interest  in  and  about 
Jerusalem,  I  resume  the  order  of  my  journal. 

July  19th.  The  Lord’s  day — my  first  Sabbath  in  Jerusa¬ 
lem.  Having  been  deprived  of  the  public  ordinances  of  the 
Church  since  quitting  Naples,  I  looked  forward  during  all 
my  desert-route,  with  no  small  anticipation  of  joy,  to  the  de¬ 
lightful  prospect  of  joining  in  worship  with  the  little  church 
assembling  on  Mount  Zion.  How  great  the  mercy  of  God, 
in  permitting  this  sweet  Sabbath  season  to  dawn  upon  me  in 
Jerusalem.  I  had,  soon  after  my  arrival,  enjoyed  the  happi¬ 
ness  of  being  welcomed  to  the  Holy  City  by  the  good  Bishop  ; 
and  on  the  Sunday  morning  while  1  was  musing  upon  the 
sacred  exercises  in  which  I  hoped  soon  to  join,  I  received  a 
kind  note  from  him,  inviting  me  to  read  prayers.  To  be  per¬ 
mitted  to  kneel  as  a  humble  worshipper  on  Mount  Zion,  was, 
I  felt,  quite  enough:  but  I  could  not  forego  the  spiritual  de¬ 
light  of  leading  the  devotions  of  others,  on  that  sacred  spot. 
It  was  an  occasion  which  filled  my  heart  with  a  calm  joy. 
The  service  was  conducted  in  a  small  temporary  chapel — an 
“  upper  room,”  in  which  some  of  the  first  efforts  of  Mr.  Nico- 
layson  were  made.  There  was  an  air  of  primitive  simplicity 
about  it,  according  well  with  the  position  which  we  at  pre¬ 
sent  occupy  in  Jerusalem.  It  overlooks  the  site  on  which 
the  new  church  is  in  process  of  erection.  The  congregation 
consisted  of  about  thirty  persons.  I  listened  with  edification 
and  thankfulness  to  a  sermon  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ewald, 
from  John  iv.  24 — “  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship 
him,  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth.”  I  felt  as  if  I 
had  a  spiritual  home  on  Mount  Zion  ;  and,  while  participa¬ 
ting  the  holy  exercises  of  the  day,  it  seemed  as  if,  after  long 
wandering  in  unchristian  lands,  where  all  is  wondrous  and 
unfamiliar,  I  had  at  length  come  again  within  the  green 
pastures  of  life,  and  was  bcdng  gently  led  beside  the  waters  of 
quietness. 

The  Bishop  kindly  invited  us  to  attend  evening  service  at 
his  own  residence,  where  it  is  usually  conducted.  The  win¬ 
dows  of  the  room  in  which  we  assembled,  looked  over  the 

24* 


282 


THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 


city  towards  the  Mount  of  Olives,  on  which  the  setting  sun 
was  shedding  his  last  beams  as  we  prepared  for  the  service. 
It  was  a  scene  of  sweetest  serenity  and  beauty.  To  worship 
within  sight  of  the  Mount  of  Olives — there  was  indeed  some¬ 
thing  charming  in  the  idea.  We  spent  a  happy  Sabbath 
evening — one  which  memory  has  often  delighted  to  recall. 
The  good  Bishop — in  kindly  consideration  of  our  arrival, 
gave  notice  of  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord’s  Supper  for  the  fol 
lowing  Sunday,  that  we  might  there — on  Mount  Zion,  have 
an  opportunity  of  commemorating  our  adorable  Redeemer’s 
dying  love ;  in  addition  to  which,  he  invited  me  to  preach  on 
that  occasion.  I  could  not  hesitate  ;  though  I  felt  a  hum¬ 
bling  sense  of  my  unworthiness  to  proclaim  Christ  in  his  own 
royal  city.  Never  did  I  look  forward  to  a  coming  Sabbath 
with  an  interest  so  deep  and  solemn. 

The  intense  heat  of  the  sun  made  us  glad  to  keep  within 
the  walls  of  the  convent  during  the  most  trying  hours  of  the 
day,  while  we  sojourned  in  the  Holy  City.  But  we  made 
frequent  excursions,  as  we  were  able,  so  as  to  get  an  idea  of 
its  present  state  and  condition  :  sometimes  traversing  its  streets, 
at  others,  ascending  the  walls  and  poring  among  ruins.  It  is 
impossible  to  describe  the  loneliness  which  prevails  at  almost 
every  part,  except  in  those  which  are  occupied  by  bazaars. 
The  streets  are  mostly  very  narrow ;  and  on  either  side,  near 
the  houses,  there  are  raised  footways,  below  which  the  horse 
and  camel  path  lies,  sometimes  at  a  depth  of  eighteen  inches 
or  two  feet.  The  surface  of  the  stones  is  perfectly  smooth,  so 
as  to  require  some  caution  in  passengers,  whether  on  foot  or 
on  horseback.  Every  aspect  of  Jerusalem  is  impressive  to 
those  who  view  it  in  the  light  of  holy  scripture. 

While  marking  and  musing  upon  the  sadness  which  seems 
to  overhang  the  “  City  of  the  great  King,”  while  trodden 
down  of  the  Gentiles,  often  did  my  mind  recur  to  the  glow¬ 
ing  picture  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  coming  down  from  God, 
adorned  as  a  bride  for  her  husband,  as  revealed  by  the  Spirit 
to  the  beloved  disciple  at  Patinos  ;  often  did  I  seem  to  hear 
the  voice  of  Him  who  sat  upon  the  throne,  declaring,  “  Be- 


THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 


283 


hold,  I  make  all  things  new.”  The  prophetic  description  of 
the  New  Jerusalem  (whatever  may  be  the  extent  of  its  mys¬ 
tical  signification)  expands  before  the  imagination,  while 
gazing  on  the  desolation  of  the  old.  u  And  there  came  unto 
me  one  of  the  seven  angels  which  had  the  seven  phials  full 
of  the  seven  last  plagues,  and  talked  with  me,  saying,  Come 
hither,  I  will  shew  thee  the  bride,  the  Lamb’s  wife.  And 
he  carried  me  away  in  the  spirit,  to  a  great  and  high  moun¬ 
tain,  and  shewed  me  that  great  city,  the  holy  Jerusalem,  de¬ 
scending  out  of  heaven  from  God,  having  the  glory  of  God : 
and  her  light  was  like  unto  a  stone  most  precious,  and  like  a 
jasper  stone,  clear  as  crystal ;  and  had  a  wall  great  and  high, 
and  had  twelve  gates,  and  at  the  gates  twelve  angels,  and 
names  written  thereon,  which  are  the  names  of  the  twelve 
tribes  of  the  children  of  Israel :  on  the  east,  three  gates  ;  on 
the  north,  three  gates  ;  on  the  south,  three  gates  ;  and  on  the 
west,  three  gates.  And  the  wall  of  the  city  had  twelve  foun¬ 
dations,  and  in  them,  the  names  of  the  twelve  apostles  of  the 
Lamb.  And  he  that  talked  with  me  had  a  golden  reed  to 
measure  the  city,  and  the  gates  thereof,  and  the  walls  thoreof. 
And  the  city  lieth  foursquare,  and  the  length  is  as  large  as 
the  breadth  :  and  he  measured  the  city  with  the  reed,  twelve 
thousand  furlongs.  The  length  and  the  breadth  and  the 
height  of  it  are  equal.  And  he  measured  the  wall  thereof, 
an  hundred  and  forty  and  four  cubits,  according  to  the  mea¬ 
sure  of  a  man,  that  is,  of  the  angel.  And  the  building  of  the 
wall  of  it  was  of  jasper :  and  the  city  was  pure  gold,  like 
unto  clear  glass.  And  the  foundations  of  the  wall  of  the  city 
were  garnished  with  all  manner  of  precious  stones.  The  first 
foundation  was  jasper  ;  the  second,  sapphire  ;  the  third,  a 
chalcedony  ;  the  fourth,  an  emerald  ;  the  fifth,  sardonyx  ;  the 
sixth,  sardius;  the  seventh,  chrysolite  ;  the  eighth,  beryl ;  the 
ninth,  a  topaz  ;  the  tenth,  a  chrysoprasus ;  the  eleventh,  a 
jacinth  ;  the  twelfth,  an  amethyst.  And  the  twelve  gates 
were  twelve  pearls  ;  every  several  gate  was  of  one  pearl :  and 
the  street  of  the  city  was  pure  gold,  as  it  were  transparent 
glass.  And  I  saw  no  temple  therein :  for  the  Lord  God 


284 


THE  JEWS  IN  PALESTINE. 


Almighty  and  the  Lamb  are  the  temple  of  it.  And  the  city 
had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon,  to  shine  in  it : 
for  the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light 
thereof  And  the  nations  of  them  which  are  saved  shall 
walk  in  the  light  of  it ;  and  the  kings  of  the  earth  do  bring 
their  glory  and  honor  into  it.  And  the  gates  of  it  shall  not 
be  shut  at  all  by  day  ;  for  there  shall  be  no  night  there.  And 
they  shall  bring  the  glory  and  honor  of  the  nations  into  it. 
And  there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  any  thing  that  de- 
fileth,  neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination,  or  maketh  a 
lie  ;  but  they  which  are  written  in  the  Lamb’s  book  of  life.”* 

“Behold,  I  make  all  things  new.” — It  is  to  a  grand  process 
of  renovation  that  both  the  provisions  and  promises  of  the 
gospel  bid  us  look ;  and  surely  never  can  faith  and  hope  act 
more  intensely  upon  the  prospect,  than  when  the  eye  rests  on 
the  desolation  of  Judea,  and  the  depression  of  Jerusalem  ;  and 
when  the  heart  contemplates  the  tribes  of  God’s  scattered  peo¬ 
ple  Israel.  “  When  the  Lord  shall  build  up  Zion,  he  shall 
appear  in  his  glory.” 

The  number  of  Jews  resident  at  Jerusalem  is  estimated  at 
between  five  and  six  thousand ;  and  in  Palestine,  altogether, 
at  about  ten  thousand  ;  but  it  is  not  easy  to  obtain  very  accu¬ 
rate  information  ;  for  they  themselves  are  unwilling  to  supply 
it,  and  are  frequently  swept  away  in  great  numbers  by  the 
plague.  There  is,  however,  a  continual  reinforcement  of  their 
numbers  from  various  parts  of  Europe.  A  small  portion  of 
the  resident  Jews  are  engaged  in  little  tradings,  but  constantly 
exposed  to  the  oppression  of  the  Turks.  It  appears  that  no 
part  of  the  land  of  their  fathers  is  at  present  cultivated  by 
Jews.  They  are  indeed  strangers  and  sojourners  only,  in 
their  own  patrimony ;  and  from  the  nominally  Christian 
communities — the  Greeks,  the  Armenians,  and  the  Roman 
Catholics,  they  are  said  to  experience  the  working  of  a  spirit 
as  bitter  as  that  which  the  Turks  display  towards  them.  If 
you  meet  a  solitary  Jew  in  Jerusalem,  he  gives  you  the  idea 
of  a  man  walking  in  expectation  of  being  stoned  or  insulted 

*  Rev.  xxi.  9 — 27. 


THE  JEWS  IN  PALESTINE. 


285 


As  a  body,  they  are  divided  ;  hatreds,  jealousies,  and  animosi¬ 
ties  prevail  sadly  amongst  them.  And  as  soon  as  any  one  is 
discovered  to  be  an  inquirer  into  Christian  doctrines,  he  is 
deprived  of  all  share  of  the  funds  remitted  from  Europe. 

The  number  of  Jews  increased  in  Palestine  considerably 
during  the  first  five  years  of  the  government  of  Mehemet 
Ali ;  but  within  the  last  two  or  three  years  there  has  been 
but  little  increase.  Most  Jews  who  go  to  Palestine,  are  at  an 
advanced  period  of  life  ;  and  probably  but  ill  prepared  for 
those  changes  in  climate  and  habit  to  which  they  are  obliged 
to  submit.  The  frequent  recurrence  of  the  plague,  combined 
with  other  causes,  seems  to  have  acted  as  a  hindrance  to  their 
increase,  of  late  years.  The  reasons  said  to  influence  the 
desire  of  Jews  to  return  to  their  own  ancient  territories  are 
these: — 1.  The  common  belief  among  them,  that  every  Jew 
who  dies  out  of  the  land,  must  perform  a  subterraneous  pas¬ 
sage  back  to  it,  in  order  that  he  may  rise  from  the  dead  in  the 
valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  where  thousands  of  their  fathers  lie 
buried.  2.  They  have  a  notion,  that  to  die  in  their  own 
land,  renders  their  final  salvation  certain,  though  it  will  not 
exempt  them  from  “  the  beating  in  the  grave,  and  the  eleven 
months  of  purgatory.”  3.  They  believe  that  those  who  re¬ 
side  there  have  immediate  communion  with  heaven,  and  that 
their  Rabbies  are  in  a  manner  inspired.  Jerusalem  is  the 
strong-hold  of  Rabbinism.  4.  They  expect  the  appearance 
of  Messiah  in  Jerusalem  j  and  look  for  national  restoration 
through  him. 

The  greater  number  of  Jews  who  come  to  Palestine,  are 
from  Poland.  Some  come  also  from  Russia;  but  at  present 
there  are  great  hindrances  thrown  in  their  way.  There  are 
some  from  Wallachia  and  Moldavia;  a  few  from  Germany; 
a  few  from  Holland ;  but  scarcely  any  from  Britain.  Those 
Jews  who  are  subjects  of  the  Ottoman  Porte,  are  said  to  be  of 
Spanish  extraction.  They  come  principally  from  Turkey  in 
Europe,  from  Saloniki,  Constantinople  and  the  Dardanelles, 
Those  who  come  from  Asia  Minor,  are  chiefly  from  Smyrna. 
Many  have  come  from  Africa,  especially  of  late  years,  and 


286 


THE  JEWS  IN  PALESTINE. 


also  from  Morocco  and  the  Barbary  coast,  from  Algiers, 
Tunis,  and  Tripoli.  There  are  a  few  from  Alexandria  and 
Cairo. 

The  greater  number  of  the  resident  Jews  are  supported  by 
annual  contributions  made  by  the  various  synagogues  of  their 
brethren,  in  other  countries.  They  who  possess  some  little 
property  when  they  quit  Europe  for  Palestine,  very  commonly 
make  it  over  to  friends,  on  condition  that  they  remit  them  an 
annuity  while  they  sojourn  in  the  Ploly  Land.  The  sum 
which  each  individual  receives  from  the  annually  raised  fund, 
is  very  small.  Five  ducats,  or  about  three  pounds  ten  shil¬ 
lings  for  each  man,  is  as  much  as  can  be  expected,  per  annum. 
The  plan  now  adopted  for  regulating  the  pecuniary  provision 
is  this.  The  sum  raised  in  the  various  European  synagogues 
is  remitted  altogether  to  Amsterdam,  to  a  rich  Jewish  mer¬ 
chant,  who  for  this  purpose,  is  called  the  president  of  the 
Holy  Land.  This  person  remits  it  to  the  Austrian  Consul, 
at  Beyrout,  who  forwards  it  to  properly  authorised  parties  at 
Jerusalem,  for  distribution.  The  average  amount  may  be 
about  two  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  piastres,  or  about 
two  thousand  eight  hundred  pounds.  The  poverty  of  the 
Jews  in  Palestine  is  very  great,  as  may  be  reasonably  ex¬ 
pected  from  what  I  have  already  mentioned.  The  contribu¬ 
tions  from  Europe  have  of  late  been  smaller  than  usual ;  and 
when  they  arrive,  instead  of  doing  real  good  to  any  important 
extent,  are  a  fruitful  source  of  heart-burning  and  strife.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  “brethren  dwelling  together  in  unity,”  in 
Jerusalem — no  Jew  trusts  his  brother.  The  expectation  of 
some  means  of  support  from  Europe,  however  small,  induces 
many  to  live  in  idleness.  Hence,  there  are  said  to  be  in  the 
city  four  hundred  acknowledged  paupers ;  and  five  hundred 
more  who  actually  receive  charity.  Many  are  so  destitute, 
that  without  relief  they  would  not  be  able  to  subsist  during 
the  winter  season.* 

*  For  valuable  and  deeply  interesting  information  in  reference  to  the 
Jews  in  Palestine,  the  recent  publication  of  the  Deputation  from  the  Church 
of  Scotland  may  be  well  consulted.  Some  of  the  above  particulars  Jrave 
been  obtained  from  that  source. 


THE  CHURCH  IN  JERUSALEM. 


287 


No  thoughtful  and  reflecting  mind  can  regard  the  present 
state  of  the  Jews — especially  in  Palestine,  without  feeling  the 
force  of  that  living  commentary  which  they  afford  upon  the 
pages  of  divine  truth.  They  are  witnesses  for  God,  and  for 
Christ,  and  for  Christianity — in  spite  of  themselves.  When 
will  the  Church  of  Christ  arise,  and,  in  the  broad  sunlight  of 
revelation,  take  up  her  proper  position  to  the  full  on  behalf 
of  God’s  ancient  people?  I  praise  God,  from  my  heart,  that 
the  Church  of  England  is  now  beginning  to  do  so ;  and  that 
I  was  permitted,  in  Jerusalem,  to  see  the  commencement  of 
her  scriptural  organization  for  that  purpose.  I  think  I  can 
now  believe,  expect,  and  hope  all  things.  Oh  that  we  could 
see  a  vast  and  rapid  increase  at  home,  of  those  who  “  pray  for 
the  peace  of  Jerusalem,”  in  the  assurance  that  “they  shall 
prosper  that  love  her.” 

Just  before  I  quitted  Jerusalem,  the  foundation  of  the 
Church,  which  has  been  so  long  in  intention,  was  completely 
laid  and  brought  to  a  level  with  the  surface — the  present 
surface  of  Mount  Zion.  How  delightful  the  thought — that 
the  Church  of  England  should  be  permitted,  in  the  provi¬ 
dence  of  God,  to  set  up  her  banner  there.  May  she  be  the 
honored  channel  through  which  the  waters  of  life  shall  flow 
forth  abundantly!  May  He  whom  the  Father  hath  exalted 
with  his  right  hand  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour  for  to  give 
repentance  to  Israel  and  forgiveness  of  sins — be  there  truly 
and  fully  set  forth,  that  so  eventually  He  may  become,  in  the 
fulness  of  the  divine  purpose,  a  light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles, 
and  the  glory  of  His  people  Israel. 

The  digging  for  the  foundation  has  been  a  most  laborious 
and  costly  process.  So  great  have  been  the  accumulations 
of  soil,  since  Jerusalem  has  “  become  heaps,”  that  until  reach¬ 
ing  the  solid  rock,  at  a  depth  of  forty  feet,  no  sufficient  bed 
could  be  procured  for  the  foundation.  At  that  depth,  then, 
the  first  stones  were  laid ;  and  the  Church  will,  in  the  fullest 
literal  sense  of  the  expression,  be  founded  on  the  hill  of  Zion. 
The  stone  for  the  building  is  procured  from  a  quarry  a  few 
miles  north  of  the  city,  not  far  from  a  village  now  called 


288 


JEWISH  CUSTOM. 


Anata,  the  ancient  Anathoth — the  birth-place  of  the  prophet 
Jeremiah.  It  is  of  a  fine,  firm  texture,  and  bears  the  tool  of 
the  mason  admirably.  Considerable  progress  had  been  made 
in  the  various  departments  of  masonry  when  I  was  on  the 
spot,  and  a  great  number  of  hands — some  of  them  Arabs,  and 
some  Maltese,  were  employed  in  shaping  pillars,  arches, 
architraves,  and  other  parts  of  the  building,  so  as  to  be  ready 
as  the  progress  of  the  work  might  call  for  them.* 

On  every  Friday,  it  is  the  custom  for  many  Jews  to  as¬ 
semble  for  humiliation  and  supplication,  near  the  precincts  of 
the  sacred  spot  on  which  once  stood  the  temple  in  its  glory, 
but  within  which  not  one  of  them  can  now  obtain  admission. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  we  were  present.  The  wall  of  the 
enclosure  at  that  place,  which  is  toward  the  west,  is  formed 
with  stones  of  immense  magnitude,  and  of  such  a  kind  and 
character  as  may  favor  the  notion  that  they  were  once  a  part 
either  of  the  temple  itself  or  its  boundary.  Certainly,  they 
are  very  unlike  the  materials  of  which  the  city  and  its  pre¬ 
sent  walls  are  constructed.  They  have  been  wrought  with 
great  care,  and  are  bevelled  off  at  their  edges  with  great  ex¬ 
actness  and  beauty.  The  Jews  are  said  to  have  a  persuasion 
that  their  prayers  will  find  especial  acceptance,  when  breathed 
through  the  crevices  of  that  building  of  which  Jehovah  said 
— “  Mine  eyes  and  mine  heart  shall  be  there  perpetually.” 
On  reaching  the  spot,  we  found  a  row  of  aged  Jews  sitting  in 
the  dust  in  front  of  the  wall,  all  of  them  engaged  in  reading 
or  reciting  certain  portions  of  the  Hebrew  scriptures.  There 
was  no  such  outward  manifestation  of  strong  emotion  as  I 
had  been  led  to  expect ;  but  yet  every  one  appeared  to  be  in¬ 
tently  occupied,  and  but  little  disturbed  by  the  approach  of 
European  strangers.  Among  them  were  several  Jewesses, 
enveloped  from  head  to  foot  in  ample  white  veils.  They 
stepped  forward  to  various  parts  of  the  ancient  wall,  kissed 
them  with  great  fervency  of  manner,  and  uttered  their  pe- 

*  Since  this  was  written,  the  work  has  been  suspended  by  order  of  the 
Turkish  Government — an  event  not  much  feared  at  one  time.  The  final 
issue  of  it  is  yet  to  be  seen. 


MY  SECOND  SABBATH  IN  JERUSALEM. 


289 


titions  in  a  low  whisper,  at  the  points  where  the  stones  came 
in  contact.  I  thought  of  Israel,  when  by  the  waters  of  Baby¬ 
lon  they  sat  down  and  wept;  and  could  not  but  lift  up  my 
heart  for  the  hastening  of  the  time  when  their  King  shall  be 
again  in  the  midst  of  them — no  longer  in  humiliation,  but  in 
glory,  and  when  all  “  shall  know  him,  from  the  least  to  the 
greatest.” 

I  remember  Sunday,  the  twenty-sixth  of  June,  as  one  of 
the  most  deeply  interesting  and  affecting  days  of  my  life.  By 
five  o’clock  in  the  morning,  1  was  descending  the  valley  of 
Jehoshaphat,  and  paused  a  moment  as  I  crossed  the  then  drv 
bed  of  the  brook  Kedron,over  which  my  Saviour  had  so  often 
passed.  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  for  a  pur 
pose  in  which  he  himself  delighted.  All  was  silent  and  mo 
tionless,  as  the  rising  sun  of  the  Sabbath  shed  his  glory  on  the 
sacred  scene  around  me.  I  passed  on  to  Gethsemane — alone 
in  the  flesh — but  not  in  the  spirit,  I  believe,  and  meditated 
within  the  bounds  of  that  wondrous  enclosure.  I  proceeded 
upwards  to  the  first  ridge  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  took 
my  seat  under  the  shade  of  a  wide-spreading  fig  tree,  in  a  spot 
which  presented  to  me  the  Holy  City — slumbering  as  it  were 
in  silent  inactivity.  I  had  met  only  a  solitary  Arab  as  I 
passed  through  the  city  towards  the  gate  of  St.  Stephen  ;  and 
while  sitting  on  the  Mount,  not  a  single  voice  broke  upon  the 
sense  of  solitude  which  pervaded  my  mind.  Often,  amidst 
the  stir  and  toil  of  active  life  at  home,  have  I  recurred  to 
that  season  of  sweet  Sabbath  repose  which  I  enjoyed  on  the 
sacred  mount,  where  my  Saviour  had  so  often  passed  his 
hours  of  secret  communion  with  the  Father.  I  will  not  at¬ 
tempt  to  lay  bare  the  spiritual  process  of  my  soul,  while  there 
I  prayed  for  divine  light  and  guidance,  and  meditated  on  the 
portion  of  the  Holy  Word  which  I  had  been  led  to  select,  as 
containing  the  message  I  was  that  day  to  proclaim  on  the 
heights  of  Mount  Zion.  Again  and  again,  I  pondered  over 
the  precious  passage — the  words  of  Jesus  himself — “And  this 

IS  LIFE  ETERNAL,  THAT  THEY  MIGHT  KNOW  THEE  THE  ONLY  TRUE 

25 


290 


FUTURE  MOVEMENTS. 


God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent.”*  What  a 
volume  of  imperishable  truth  do  they  contain  !  I  have  been 
privileged  to  set  forth  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  amidst  thou¬ 
sands  in  my  own  beloved  country ;  and  my  heart  has  often 
gLwed  at  the  prospect,  and  expanded  in  the  exercise ;  but 
nt  w,  in  prospect  of  proclaiming  life  eternal  in  Christ,  in  the 
city  from  which  the  streams  of  life  began  to  flow — I  felt  for  a 
time  borne  down  by  the  thought — “  Who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things  ?”  I  returned,  however,  to  the  city,  with  a  serene  and 
happy  heart ;  passed  up  the  way  along  which  Jesus  bore  his 
cross  for  me ;  and  pausing  for  a  brief  space  at  the  slope  of 
Calvary — awaited  the  hour  in  which  the  little  church  of 
Christ  should  assemble  in  the  “  upper  room  ”  on  Mount  Zion 
The  season  of  public  worship  was  delightful  and  refreshing. 
The  sacrament  of  the  Lord’s  Supper  was  administered  by  the 
Bishop,  assisted  by  Mr.  Williams,  his  chaplain.  It  was  a 
spiritual  exercise  to  be  had  in  continual  remembrance,  for  its 
simplicity,  solemnity  and  impressiveness. 

In  the  evening,  we  attended  the  usual  service  at  the  Epis¬ 
copal  residence  ;  after  which,  the  Bishop  kindly  chanted  for 
us  the  first  chapter  of  the  book  of  Lamentations,  in  the  man¬ 
ner  still  observed  by  the  Jews  when  bewailing  the  destruction 
of  their  temple  and  city.  It  was  extremely  plaintive  and  af¬ 
fecting  ;  and  filled  the  mind  with  saddening  associations,  while 
surrounded,  as  we  were,  by  the  proofs  of  Israel’s  desolation. 

Before  finally  quitting  Jerusalem,  we  resolved  to  make  our 
visit  to  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  River  Jordan  ;  and  as  our  time 
was  gliding  rapidly  away,  we  procured  the  attendance  of 
Sheikh  Hamdan — the  Chief  of  the  Arabs  inhabiting  that  re¬ 
gion,  and  settled  the  terms  upon  which  he  was  to  give  us 
safe  conduct  to  those  interesting  localities.  I  shall  make  the 
particulars  of  this  excursion  the  subject  of  a  separate  chap¬ 
ter  ;  and  then  bring  my  reader  back  with  me  to  Jerusalem. 

*  John  xvi'  .  3. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  DEAD  SEA,  JORDAN,  &c. 

Preparations  for  the  Journey — Arab  Pastimes — Plan  of  the  Journey — Commence* 
ment  of  the  Journey — Mountain-pass  towards  Mar  Saba — Convent  of  Mar  Saba-* 
Tomb  of  Mar  Saba — Route  towards  the  Dead  Sea — Sodom — Gomorrah,  etc.— 
The  Jordan — The  Plain  of  Jericho — Jericho — Fountain  of  Elisha— Road  between 
Jerusalem  and  Jericho. 

It  was  on  the  thirtieth  of  June  that  we  commenced  our 
journey  to  the  Dead  Sea,  and  the  scenes  of  Scripture-history 
connected  with  it.  An  addition  was  made  to  our  party  in 
the  person  of  the  Rev.  John  Rowlands,  Fellow  of  Q,ueen’s 
College,  Cambridge — an  old  and  dear  friend,  whom  I  had 
the  happiness  of  meeting  in  Jerusalem,  after  several  years  of 
separation,  which  he  had  passed  in  Syria,  Palestine,  and  vari¬ 
ous  parts  of  the  continent  of  Europe.  If  he  should  happen 
to  take  up  this  book,  he  will  not  be  surprised  at  finding  in  it 
a  record  of  the  delight  afforded  me  by  our  meeting. 

With  the  Arabs,  preparations  for  an  expedition  are  gener¬ 
ally  attended  with  wearisome  and  harassing  delays.  It  was  so 
in  this  case.  By  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  however,  all 
our  preparations  were  made  :  tents,  mats,  cooking  apparatus, 
&c. — all  were  packed  and  ready,  after  the  manner  of  our 
desert-route.  The  party  consisted  of  Sheikh  Hamdan — a 
calm,  dignified,  and  intelligent-looking  Arab — the  Chief  or 
Regal  Sheikh  of  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  district  lying  between 
it  and  Jerusalem ;  eight  Bedaween,  of  the  same  region  and 
tribe,  as  guards,  all  of  whom,  as  well  as  Hamdan,  were 
mounted  on  Arab  horses,  and  u  armed  to  the  teeth”  with 
sabres,  pistols,  crooked  knives  in  their  girdles,  and  matchlock 
guns  slung  at  their  backs  :  and,  in  addition  to  these  weapons, 
some  carried  the  long  Arab  spear,  with  its  tuft  of  camel’s 


292 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  JOURNEY. 


hair,  dyed  black,  surrounding  the  bottom  of  the  blade — a 
fearful  instrument  in  a  dextrous  hand.  Great  precaution  is 
always  taken  in  making  this  expedition,  on  account  of  a  fierce 
and  powerful  tribe  called  the  Beni  Sakhrs ,  whose  territory 
lies  just  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Jordan  ;  and  between 
whom  and  the  tribes  on  the  west  there  is  great  jealousy,  and 
who  not  unfrequently  take  measures  for  harassing  pilgrims 
and  others  who  visit  these  desolate  regions.  It  is  well,  there¬ 
fore,  to  take  a  considerable  escort,  and  to  show  as  many  wea¬ 
pons — especially  guns,  as  possible.  Besides  our  guards  on 
horseback,  we  had  with  us  two  mules  and  two  asses,  with 
drivers,  to  carry  our  tents  and  various  other  provisions  for  the 
journey — food,  bedding /  water-skins,  and  such  like.  Then 
there  were  our  two  servants,  Hassenein  and  Abd’lawahyed, 
and  Mr.  Rowlands’  servant,  Giovanni — a  Maltese,  who  was 
so  armed,  that  he  looked  like  an  arsenal  on  horseback. 
Hassenein,  too,  being  fond  of  arms,  and  a  little  quixotic  in 
his  habits,  was  girt  about  with  an  abundance  also.  We  were 
all  tolerably  well  mounted  on  Arab  horses  procured  at 
Jerusalem,  and  made  altogethera  considerable  party,  somewhat 
formidable  as  well  as  picturesque,  when  winding  our  way 
among  the  mountain  passes.  The  Turkish  saddles,  with 
their  high  pommels  covered  with  crimson  cloth,  afford  a  safe 
and  comfortable  seat  when  once  one  gets  accustomed  to  them  ; 
but  the  arrangement  of  the  stirrups — placed  far  back,  is  dis¬ 
agreeable,  and  compels  the  rider  to  bend  the  knee  in  a  very 
acute  angle,  which,  upon  a  long  journey,  becomes  excessively 
faticruino;. 

o  o 

Our  Arabs  were  mostly  fine  dashing  fellows — any  one  of 
whom,  I  should,  however,  have  been  extremely  unwilling  to 
meet  alone  on  any  hillside,  except  he  were  in  my  service, 
and  had  eaten  of  my  bread.  When  they  came  to  any  open 
plain,  they  were  fond  of  setting  up  a  kind  of  mock  fight 
among  themselves,  in  order  to  give  us  some  idea  of  their  agility 
and  dexterity.  The  picture  which  they  presented  was  some¬ 
times  terrific  ;  but  yet,  every  action  both  of  man  and  horse  was 
graceful  in  the  extreme.  At  one  moment,  some  would  be 


ARAB  PASTIMES - PLAN  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


293 


seen  in  the  hot  pursuit  of  others,  with  the  long  spear  poised 
and  brandished,  as  if  in  an  instant  to  transfix  the  fugitives  ; 
and  then  suddenly  the  pursued  turned  upon  the  pursuers, 
c  locking  and  bringing  up  their  horses  at  speed,  with  wonder, 
fui  dexterity,  and,  drawing  their  sabres,  appeared  ready  for  a 
deadly  conflict  hand  to  hand.  For  an  instant,  they  seemed 
almost  maddened,  and  rushed  towards  each  other  with  a  wild 
shout  or  war-cry.  Then  bounding  off  again  at  a  fearful 
speed,  and  again  mingling  as  if  for  a  deadly  melee — they 
would  all  at  once  break  off  with  a  loud  laugh  ;  and,  return¬ 
ing  to  us,  claim  our  applause,  saying,  “  Tayeeb  tayeeb 
Khowaga  ?”  (Is  it  not  very  good,  Sir?) 

The  plan  upon  which  we  made  our  journey,  was,  upon 
experiment,  the  most  successful  that  could  be  desired.  Most 
travellers  have,  I  believe,  found  this  expedition  a  great  tax 
upon  their  strength,  on  account  of  the  great  heat  of  the  plains 
and  mountain  passes,  which  generally  exceeds  the  tempera¬ 
ture  of  the  surrounding  country.  It  is,  therefore,  always 
looked  upon  as  an  arduous  affair ;  and  we  set  out  with 
an  apprehension  that  it  would  be  as  much  as  we  could  do 
to  endure  the  heat.  Even  the  Arabs  themselves  sometimes 
quail  at  it,  especially  when  in  the  Ghor ,  or  plains  of  the 
Jordan. 

Most  travellers,  who  take  this  journey  from  Jerusalem, 
proceed  direct  to  Jericho  on  the  first  day,  and  there  pitch 
their  tents  for  the  night.  On  the  following  morning  they 
visit  the  northern  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea,  which  is  somewhere 
about  two  hours  distant  in  a  direct  route ;  then  the  River 
Iordan,  distant  about  an  hour  and  a  half  from  the  Dead  Sea, 
and  return  to  their  tents  worn  and  exhausted  by  the  almost 
intolerable  heat.  On  the  third  day  they  commonly  return  to 
Jerusalem  by  the  way  they  came,  or  by  way  of  Mar  Saba  ; 
in  which  latter  case,  they  visit  the  Jordan  first,  and  then  the 
Dead  Sea.  We  made  our  journey  in  a  manner  quite  the 
reverse  of  this ;  and  though  it  was  performed  on  the  thirtieth 
of  June,  and  the  two  first  days  of  July,  yet  we  suffered  no 
real  inconvenience.  Indeed,  the  severity  of  the  heat  was  in 

25* 


294 


COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


a  great  degree  avoided.  Having  made  the  experiment  so 
successfully,  I  would  strongly  recommend  all  travellers  to  do 
as  we  did,  and  make  a  condition  about  it,  while  bargaining 
with  their  Sheikh  for  the  escort. 

It  was  soon  after  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
thirtieth  of  June,  that  we  left  Jerusalem  by  the  Bethlehem 
gate ;  and,  winding  down  the  steep  sides  of  Mount  Zion, 
crossed  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  by  the  place  of  Tophet,  which 
brought  us  to  a  mountain  pass,  at  the  bottom  of  which  is  con¬ 
tinued  the  bed  of  the  brook  Kedron,  after  it  turns  off  from  the 
valley  of  Jehoshaphat.  Before  entering  the  pass,  we  made  a 
halt  at  Bir  el  Eyoub  (the  well  of  Joab),  in  order  to  get  all  the 
party  together.  Our  guards  called  to  some  Arabs  loitering 
about  the  well,  who  brought  us  fresh  sparkling  water  in 
buckets  made  of  skins.  We  took  a  plentiful  draught,  and 
deemed  it  luxury.  There  is,  after  all,  I  repeat,  no  beverage 
to  be  compared  with  delicious  water,  in  the  estimation  of  an 
unvitiated  palate.  We  formed  altogether  a  wild  and  fanciful 
group  while  gathered  together  around  Bir  el  Eyoub  ;  and 
when  I  thought  of  the  nature  of  our  expedition,  I  felt  there 
was  an  indescribable  sensation  of  romance  connected  with  it. 
Before  we  moved  from  the  spot,  we  were  joined  by  a  young 
Greek,  two  Russian  pilgrims,  and  a  Greek  priest,  all  of  whom 
had  expressed  a  desire  to  join  our  party,  in  order  to  have  that 
sort  of  protection  against  marauding  Arabs  which  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  numbers  is  calculated  to  afford.  After  all  had  satisfied 
their  thirst,  we  resumed  our  journey. 

The  route  lay  south-eastward,  between  a  rapid  succession 
of  hills  of  beautiful  form  and  considerable  magnitude,  some  of 
them  partially  covered  with  short  grass  and  other  herbage, 
and  the  others  rugged  and  bare.  The  fantastically  winding 
course  of  the  brook  Kedron  was  at  our  feet  on  the  right :  and 
beyond  it,  at  about  an  hour  and  a  half  distant  from  Jerusalem, 
we  found  a  rather  large  Arab  encampment  under  the  brow  of 
a  hill ;  and  near  it,  numerous  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats  gra¬ 
zing.  We  were  too  distant  to  exchange  salutations  with  the 
shepherds.  An  Arab  encampment  is  unlike  what  many 


Mou:-:tain-pass  towards  mar  saba.  235 

would  suppose.  The  tents  are  very  low,  not  sufficiently  high 
to  admit  of  an  adult  person  standing  upright  in  them.  They 
are  pitched  together  in  rows,  and  made  of  camel’s  hair,  stained 
or  dyed  black.  Altogether  they  are  as  unpicturesque  as  their 
inhabitants  are  the  reverse. 

The  bridle  ways  in  these  mountain-passes  not  being  wide 
enough  for  even  two  persons  to  ride  abreast,  except  now  and 
then  for  a  few  yards,  we  continued  our  route  in  lengthened 
procession,  enlivening  it  as  we  might  by  snatches  of  conversa¬ 
tion.  Every  part  of  the  scene  was  extremely  wild  and  beauti¬ 
ful  ;  and  it  was  quite  surprising  to  see  how  our  little  compact 
Arab  palfreys  climbed  and  scrambled  over  the  most  difficult 
places  which  lay  in  our  way,  more  like  cats  or  monkeys  than 
any  thing  else.  Let  them  but  have  their  heads,  and  take 
their  own  course,  and  they  carry  you  through  wonderfully. 
But  if  you  try  to  show  yourself  wiser  than  your  horse,  it  is 
ten  to  one  but  he  may  chance  to  stumble  with  you.  I  have 
tried  the  experiment. 

After  about  three  hours,  the  bed  of  the  Kedron  assumes  a 
remarkably  bold  and  peculiar  aspect.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  vast  and 
terrible  chasm.  I  cannot  venture  to  compute  its  depth.  It 
appears  as  if  ocean  streams  had  once  forced  their  wilful  way 
through  it,  and  made  the  stubborn  rocks  submissive.  It  winds 
rapidly  and  abruptly,  and  presents  the  appearance  of  a  vast 
amphitheatre  at  every  bend,  in  which  the  seats,  or  rather  rows 
of  seats,  lying  along  in  the  greatest  regularity,  consist  of  the 
natural  horizontal  strata  of  the  dark  rocks.  In  the  thousands 
of  fissures  on  either  side,  numberless  birds  had  their  nests,  and 
were  skimming  about  in  the  depth  below.  It  is  impossible 
to  describe  the  grandeur  and  stupendous  magnificence  of  this 
ravine,  at  the  very  edge  of  which  lay  our  narrow  path — the 
path  trodden  for  ages — the  only  path.  It  looks  like  a  scene 
of  tremendous  natural  convulsions. 

While  rivetted  to  the  enjoyment  of  this  extraordinary 
picture  (upon  about  a  mile  of  which  I  could  look  back  as 
already  passed),  l  gazed  eagerly  forward  towards  a  new  turn 
in  the  road — and  immediately  before  us,  built  up  from  the 


296 


CONVENT  OF  MAR  SABA. 


very  bed  of  the  ravine,  and  ascending  to  the  level  on  which 
we  were  passing,  stood  the  most  wonderful  structure  of  its 
kind  I  have  ever  seen — a  place  of  immense  strength,  castel¬ 
lated,  and  unassailable  except  by  heavy  cannonade.  It  was 
the  Convent  of  Mar  Saba,  to  the  superior  of  which  we  had 
obtained  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  the  Greek  convent 
in  Jerusalem — Mar  Saba  itself  belonging  to  the  same  commu¬ 
nity.  Here  we  had  resolved  to  make  a  claim  of  hospitality, 
and  to  pass  the  night. 

As  soon  as  the  approach  of  pilgrims  (for  such  all  are 
accounted  who  visit  these  localities),  was  known  within  the 
walls,  the  sound  of  a  deep-toned  bell  was  heard,  and  several 
monks  appeared  on  a  kind  of  watch-tower,  probably  for  the 
purpose  of  reconnoitering.  One  remarkable  thing  about  this 
convent  is,  that  you  are  admitted  above ;  and  descend  to  the 
parts  of  it  which  are  used  for  the  purpose  of  habitation.  We 
had  not  stood  many  minutes  at  the  gate,  before  our  whole 
party  were  admitted — wild  Arabs  and  all,  whose  reckless 
bearing  presented  a  striking  contrast  to  the  subdued  and  quiet 
behavior  of  the  Greek  monks.  I  was  amused  at  seeing  one 
of  them  extend  his  Moslem  hand,  with  a  sort  of  braggadocio 
air,  to  a  spare  and  humble  looking  monk,  who,  with  an 
instinctive  timidity,  seemed  to  shrink  from  the  contact.  The 
Arab  persevered — wrung  the  monk’s  hand  heartily  and  with 
a  loud  shouting  laugh,  as  if  he  would  say — “Away  with  all 
your  Christian  prejudices — I  am  as  good  a  man  as  you  any 
day,  and  enjoy  a  freedom  of  which  you  know  nothing.”  The 
poor  monks  of  Mar  Saba  have  suffered  so  much  persecution 
from  the  surrounding  tribes  in  days  gone  by,  that  there  is  no 
wonder  at  their  being,  even  now,  timid  and  suspicious. 

The  exterior  of  the  convent,  however  striking,  afforded  but 
little  notion  of  the  singularity  of  its  interior.  It  is  wonder¬ 
fully  fortified,  partly  by  the  natural  defence  afforded  by  sur¬ 
rounding  rocks,  and  partly  by  artificial  structure,  of  laborious 
ingenuity ;  all  of  which  is  as  needful  now,  as  in  earlier  days, 
in  order  to  resist  the  lawless  marauding  spirit  of  the  Arabs, 


CONVENT  OF  MAE  SABA. 


297 


sometimes  impelled  by  hunger,  and  sometimes  by  mere  force 
of  their  restlessness  and  characteristic  rapacity. 

Soon  after  sending  our  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Supe¬ 
rior,  we  were  conducted  by  a  small  party  of  monks  down  sev¬ 
eral  steep  flights  of  winding  stairs,  partly  of  masonry  and 
partly  cut  in  the  rock,  as  if  we  were  to  be  deposited  at  the  very 
bottom  of  the  vast  ravine  in  which  the  convent  stands.  Every 
step  of  our  descent  increased  the  admiration  with  which  we 
gazed  around  upon  this  surprising  structure.  The  loneliness 
and  savage  grandeur  of  the  rocky  heights  and  natural  fortifi¬ 
cations  above  and  around  us,  filled  my  mind  with  a  strange 
idea  of  entire  separation  from  the  world — as  if  we  were  come 
to  the  very  last  of  human  habitations.  After  descending  to  a 
great  depth,  we  reached  an  open  platform  of  levelled  rock,  in 
the  midst  of  which  was  a  charming  little  herb  and  salad  gar¬ 
den — so  fresh  and  so  green,  that  the  eye  rested  on  it  with  de¬ 
light  after  the  wearisome  journey.  It  gave  a  most  refreshing 
air  of  coolness  to  the  whole  picture.  Beyond  this,  approached 
by  a  flight  of  stone  steps  upwards,  was  another  platform, 
on  which  stood  the  guest-chamber,  with  two  or  three  other 
and  smaller  rooms,  serving  as  kitchen  and  lodgings  for  ser¬ 
vants.  We  were  at  once  ushered  into  the  former — a  cool  and 
actually  clean  apartment,  about  thirty  feet  long  and  twenty- 
five  broad,  nicely  fitted  up  with  carpets  and  dewans,  on  which 
we  selected  our  several  sleeping  corners.  We  were  soon 
served  with  a  small  glass  of  delicious  arakee  and  some  sweet¬ 
meats  ;  then  followed  a  fragrant  cup  of  coffee ;  and  in  the 
comfortable  repose  of  the  convent  we  soon  forgot  the  fatigues 
of  the  journey.  We  spent  a  happy  evening,  as  the  sun  went 
down  upon  us,  and  while  sitting  on  the  flat  roof  of  our  cham¬ 
ber,  watched  the  coming  darkness,  and  the  assembling  of  the 
starry  wonders  of  the  firmament.  . 

After  battling  with  musquitoes  for  many  hours  of  the  night, 
we  were  aroused  as  early  as  five  o’clock,  by  the  entrance  of  a 
couple  of  monks,  who  served  us,  according  to  their  custom, 
with  a  little  glass  of  arakee — a  few  slices  of  deliciously  cool 
water-melon  and  coffee.  This  was  by  way  of  preparation  for 


298 


CONVENT  OF  MAR  SABA. 


breakfast.  We  hesitated  for  a  moment  upon  the  arakee  at 
that  early  hour  of  the  morning ;  but,  however,  supposing  the 
use  of  it  to  be  based  upon  some  satisfactory  oriental  theory,  we 
accepted  it,  and  certainly  were  not  the  worse.  I  have  always 
found  it  well  to  adopt  the  customs  and  habits  of  those  about 
me,  in  regard  to  matters  of  diet,  not  only  in  Europe,  but  in. 
Africa  and  Asia. 

We  amused  ourselves  for  a  time  in  exploring  such  parts  of 
the  convent  as  were  open  to  guests  like  ourselves.  Amongst 
other  matters  of  interest,  we  found  several  small  cells  cut  in  the 
face  of  the  solid  rocks,  and  approached  by  rudely  formed 
stairs.  Some  of  these  were  at  a  considerable  height ;  and 
seemed  intended  for  the  use  of  §uch  members  of  the  fraternity 
as  might  be  desirous  of  entire  seclusion,  and  of  indulging  an 
ascetic  spirit.  After  breakfast,  we  expressed  a  wish  to  visit  the 
the  church  and  other  antiquities  of  the  convent,  which  was 
promptly  complied  with.  The  church  is  a  very  solid  and 
substantial  building.  Its  windows  are  shaded  by  immensely 
heavy  buttresses,  for  the  purpose  of  protecting  them  against 
the  Arabs,  who  formerly  used  to  commit  much  devastation  by 
shooting  arrows,  and  throwing  stones  and  other  missiles  from 
the  heights  of  the  rocks  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine 
The  interior  is  quite  in  the  usual  style  of  Greek  churches< 
with  an  ornamented  pavement,  and  a  superabundance,  on  all 
sides,  of  tawdry  gilding  and  embellishments.  Pictures  of 
grim  saints  are  painted  in  fresco  on  the  walls — at  full  length  ; 
while  lamps,  and  ostrich  eggs  in  strings  or  rows,  festooned,  are 
suspended  from  the  roof.  Besides  the  fresco  paintings  on  the 
walls,  there  is  a  crowd  of  other  pictures  of  sacred  subjects, 
in  the  flat  Greek  style,  in  oil — many  of  them  very  ancient  and 
curious.  Some  of  the  more  modern  ones  contain  representa¬ 
tions  of  God  the  Father,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost — the  for. 
mer  as  a  bearded  old  man,  the  latter  as  a  dove — according  to 
the  custom  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Upon  this  subject,  Mr. 
Rowlands  urged  the  proper  objections  of  a  Protestant  spirit, 
which  led  to  a  rather  lengthened  discussion,  in  which  several 
of  the  younger  monks  appeared  to  take  some  little  interest ; 


CONVENT  AND  TOMB  OF  MAR  SABA. 


299 


while  the  elder  ones,  with  a  slight  indication  of  annoyance, 
attempted  to  put  an  end  to  it.  The  poor  monks  seem  to  be 
sadly  ignorant,  and  incapable  of  seeing  the  scriptural  princi 
pie  upon  which  Protestant  objections  are  founded. 

Quitting  the  interior,  we  ascended  to  the  roof  of  the  church, 
from  which  we  obtained  a  very  complete  view  of  the  wild  and 
savage  locality  in  which  this  most  remarkable  habitation  is 
placed.  It  seemed  almost  as  if  an  earthquake  had  burst  the 
rocks  asunder,  and  as  though  the  convent  had  been  construct¬ 
ed  out  of  the  materials  wonderfully  supplied  to  the  hand  by 
such  a  terrible  natural  convulsion.  We  were  next  conducted 
to  the  tomb,  in  which  are  said  to  repose  the  bones  of  John  of 
Damascus,  the  heresiarch  of  his  day,  who  introduced  into  the 
Greek  church  the  adoration  of  the  Virgin,  that  unscriptural 
innovation  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  It  is  lamentable  indeed 
to  see  the  Greek  Church  thus  hallowing  the  memory  of  a 
man  who  drew  her  away  from  her  original  purity  in  this  re 
spect.  The  tomb  of  this  saint,  like  most  saints’  tombs  in  these 
countries,  consists  of  a  low  arch  formed  in  the  wall ;  beneath 
which  lies  a  stone  effigy,  ornamented  ;  and  on  the  breast  of 
it  is  indicated  the  heresy  for  which  he  was  the  too  successful 
advocate.  Above  it  is  suspended  a  little  lamp  with  olive  oil 
kept  continually  burning.  We  next  visited  the  tomb  of  Mar 
Saba,  the  founder  of  the  convent,  who  for  forty  years  had 
lived  an  ascetic  life  in  those  mountain  fastnesses.  The  tomb 
is  detached  from  other  buildings — stands  nearly  in  the  centre 
of  the  convent,  and  is  surmounted  by  a  dome.  The  interior 
is  a  small  circular  chamber,  with  a  picture  or  two,  and  lamps. 
Mar  Saba  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity,  about  a.  d.  532,  at  the 
advanced  age  of  ninety-four.  His  acts  occupy  a  prominent 
place  in  the  history  of  Jerusalem  and  the  surrounding  coun¬ 
try.  Not  far  from  the  tomb  of  Mar  Saba  is  the  ancient — the 
original  convent  church.  It  is  undoubtedly  an  excavation  in 
the  solid  rock ;  the  fruit  of  immense  labor.  The  arch  roof 
is  formed  with  the  greatest  care.  A  few  extremely  ancient 
and  curious  pictures,  in  a  state  of  rapid  decay,  are  suspended 
on  the  walls,  and  about  the  altars.  While  we  were  in  this 


300 


CONVENT  OF  MAR  SABA. 


ancient  sanctuary,  we  examined  one  of  the  service  books, 
printed  under  the  authority  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  con¬ 
taining  most  of  the  unscriptural  deformities  of  that  apostate 
church. 

Sheikh  Hamdan  was  already  a-weary  of  convent  walls 
and  both  he  and  his  Bedaween  were  ’mpatient  for  us  to  bo 
moving.  When  within  habitations  of  stone,  the  Arabs  lose 
much  of  the  wild  energy  which  characterizes  them  in  the  de¬ 
sert.  They  glide  about  with  a  moping  step,  or  lie  down  to 
sleep  or  smoke  in  a  shady  nook.  Our  wild  guards  were  evi¬ 
dently  longing  for  a  release  from  the  restraint  which  the  con¬ 
vent  put  upon  them.  We  told  them  we  should  be  ready  to 
start  after  our  early  dinner,  which  was  served  a  little  after 
noon.  One  delicious  item  of  our  slender  fare  consisted  of  a 
salad  dressed  with  olive  oil,  and  made  of  a  kind  of  sorrel, 
which  grows  within  the  convent  walls.  It  has  a  very  plea¬ 
sant  acid  flavor.  Soon  after  we  had  finished  our  repast,  we 
sounded  the  note  of  preparation.  The  spirit  of  the  Arabs 
seemed  to  revive  ;  and  at  about  two  o’clock,  we  bade  farewell 
to  our  hospitable  friends  at  Mar  Saba — left  them  a  suitable 
gratuity,  and  mounted  our  palfreys  for  the  Dead  Sea,  intend¬ 
ing  to  pitch  our  tents  for  the  night  on  its  north-western  shore, 
and  so  avoid  as  much  as  possible,  all  oppressive  heat. 

From  the  convent  of  Mar  Saba  to  the  Dead  Sea  is  a 
journey  of  six  hours.  It  is,  I  believe,  the  route  described  by 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  one  of  his  u  Tales  of  the  Crusaders,”  as 
having  been  taken  by  Sir  Kenneth  and  Saladin,  after  their  re¬ 
pose  at  the  “  Diamond  of  the  Desert.”  It  is  singularly  wild 
and  desolate ;  and  lies  over  and  between  endless  mountainous 
undulations.  After  about  two  hours,  we  commanded  from  an 
elevated  spot  a  very  interesting  view  of  parts  of  the  Dead 
Sea,  with  the  rose-tinted  mountains  of  Moab  on  the  east, 
showing  the  mouth  of  the  river  Arnon.  where  it  empties  itself 
into  that  awful  reservoir.  Towards  our  left — still  eastward, 
was  Mount  Gilead,  distinctly  visible  in  the  distance,  and  Ra- 
moth  Gilead.  Though  we  were  then  at  least  four  hours  dis¬ 
tant  from  the  Dead  Sea,  yet,  by  reason  of  the  extreme  clear- 


ROUTE  TOWARDS  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


301 


ness  of  the  atmosphere,  it  seemed  as  if  by  descending  another 
valley  and  topping  another  hill,  we  could  step  down  upon  its 
shores.  Its  waters  were  of  deep  purple,  and  their  surface  ap* 
peared  as  smooth  as  glass  ;  while  immediately  above  there 
hung  a  shadowy  mist,  which  gave  me  the  idea  of  sulphurous 
exhalation.  It  was  a  lovely  picture  to  gaze  upon  ;  but,  how 
awful  in  the  associations  connected  with  it !  One  could  but 
look  upward  to  the  placid  and  clear  blue  sky,  and  think  of 
the  dread  moment  u  when  the  Lord  rained  upon  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  brimstone  and  fire,  from  the  Lord,  out  of 
heaven.”*  Perhaps  it  was  upon  a  firmament  as  lovely  and 
glowing  as  that  on  which  we  gazed  that  the  dark  clouds  of 
God’s  terrible  indignation  gathered.  The  divine  fury  has 
subsided.  The  liquid  monument  of  it  remains. 

Losing  the  Dead  Sea  for  a  time,  we  reached  another  part 
of  our  route  in  the  wilderness  of  Judea,  from  whence  we  ob¬ 
tained  a  distant  glance  of  the  plains  of  Moab  and  the  Jordan. 
This  in  its  turn  we  soon  lost,  and  were  shut  up  between  vast 
mountain  ridges,  the  passes  of  which  were  extremely  rugged 
and  difficult.  The  poor  Greek  priest,  who  was  of  our  party, 
had  an  unexpected,  but  not  seriously  injurious  fall  from  his 
horse  in  one  of  these.  There  was  happily  a  light  breeze 
playing  about  us,  which  helped  to  reduce  a  temperature, 
which  else  would  have  been  distressing  in  the  depths  of  the 
mountain  passes.  We  journeyed  on  in  patient  anticipation, 
amidst  scenes  the  wildest  and  grandest,  till  at  length,  as  the 
son  was  getting  low,  and  casting  on  all  objects  that  richness 
of  tinting  so  peculiar  to  these  localities,  the  plains  of  Moab 
and  Jordan  in  their  full  extent  were  stretched  out  beneath  us, 
even  as  far  as  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  northwards,  had  our  sight 
been  strong  enough  to  descry  it ;  while  towards  the  south, 
bounded  by  the  hills  of  Moab  on  the  east  and  those  of  Judea 
on  the  west,  the  Dead  Sea  again  took  up  its  position  in  the 
picture. 

From  thence,  our  route  lay  along  a  rapidly-descending 
path  ;  and  as  we  passed  on,  the  sun,  pursuing  his  homeward 

*  Genesis  xix.  24. 

26 


302 


ROUTE  TOWARDS  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


course,  gave  such  a  tone  to  the  whoie  wonderful  landscape  as 
cannot  be  forgotten — deep,  rich,  glowing.  I  feel  at  this  mo¬ 
ment  how  impossible  it  is  to  express  in  words,  the  effect  of 
color.  Those  who  would  understand  its  power  should  study 
it  in  the  East.  I  could  willingly  have  pitched  my  tent  upon 
those  heights,  and  there  awaited  the  return  of  the  morning 
sun.  My  eye  was  then  ri vetted  on  scenes  of  deep  and  abiding- 
interest.  On  my  right  was  the  scene  of  divine  terror  unspeak¬ 
able.  There — the  smoke  of  the  rebellious  cities  “  went  up 
as  the  smoke  of  a  furnace.”  To  the  left,  in  the  plain  before 
me,  wonderfully  and  miraculously  crossing  the  River  Jordan, 
Joshua  and  the  people  of  Israel  and  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant 
entered  the  promised  land.  From  thence  the  prophet  Elijah 
was  taken  up  in  a  chariot  of  fire,  and  his  mantle  descended 
upon  Elisha ;  there  the  waters  of  the  River  once  gave  proof 
by  their  obedience,  to  the  prophet’s  mission,  when  he  smote 
them  with  the  mantle  which  was  his  inheritance  ;  and  there, 
too,  even  in  those  waters,  John  once  stood  baptizing  the  many 
who  yielded  to  the  power  of  his  ministry ;  and  at  length  bap¬ 
tized  that  immaculate  Lamb  of  God,  on  whom,  even  there — 
there,  on  that  very  spot,  the  Holy  Ghost  visibly  descended 
like  a  dove,  and  a  voice  from  the  Father  was  heard  proclaim¬ 
ing — u  This  is  my  beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased.” 

The  sun  went  down  in  his  course,  casting  his  last  beams  on 
the  ridge  of  Moab ;  and  soon  the  whole  landscape,  lately  so 
bathed  in  light  and  loveliness,  became  grey  and  shadowy. 
Then  followed,  without  any  lasting  twilight — the  dominion 
of  the  stars,  which  at  first,  one  by  one,  and  then  in  full  assem¬ 
blage,  crowded  the  expanse  of  the  firmament,  pouring  down 
their  soft  quiet  light  upon  the  motionless  surface  of  the  Dead 
Sea.  It  was  an  absorbing  scene.  We  still  continued  making 
our  descent,  part  of  which  lay  over  the  narrowest  ridges  of 
fearfully  steep  declivities,  from  which  a  slip  would  have  been 
destruction — with  room,  and  sometimes  barely  room,  for  only 
one  passenger  at  a  time,  over  which  our  clever  little  horses 
carried  us  with  instinctive  dexterity.  We  moved  on  in  per¬ 
fect  silence,  each  heedful  of  his  own  safety,  and  at  length 


THE  DEAD  SEA. 


303 


reached  an  extensive  plain,  covered  with  low  brushwood, 
which  we  traversed  till  the  level  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea,  in 
all  their  mysterious  reality,  lay  at  our  feet.  Sheikh  Hamdan 
gave  the  word  for  halting,  and  with  a  thankful  heart  I  dis¬ 
mounted  for  our  evening’s  rest.  A  wanderer  from  my  own 
dear  home — I  had  found  a  home  on  the  Dead  Sea  shore. 
Our  tent  was  soon  pitched,  the  fires  lighted,  our  refreshment 
prepared ;  and  a  cup  of  tea,  with  some  Jerusalem  bread  and 
Bethlehem  honey,  formed  a  banquet — fit  for  a  prince. 

From  the  tent  door  we  could  look  forth  upon  the  sullen 
waters  of  bitterness  which  marked  the  scene  of  divine  judg¬ 
ments.  Our  Arabs  were  soon  hushed  in  the  silence  of  re¬ 
pose,  stretched  along  on  the  sands  around  us ;  and  with  no 
sound  stealing  on  the  ear  but  my  own  single  voice,  I  took  up 
my  Bible  and  read  aloud — “And  the  men  said  unto  Lot, 
Hast  thou  here  any  besides  ?  sons-in-law,  and  thy  sons,  and 
thy  daughters,  and  whatsoever  thou  hast  in  the  city,  bring 
them  out  of  this  place :  for  we  will  destroy  this  place,  because 
the  cry  of  them  is  waxen  great  before  the  face  of  the  Lord  ; 
and  the  Lord  hath  sent  us  to  destroy  it.  And  Lot  went  out, 
and  spake  unto  his  sons-in-law,  which  married  his  daughters, 
and  said,  Up,  get  ye  out  of  this  place  ;  for  the  Lord  will  de¬ 
stroy  this  city.  But  he  seemed  as  one  that  mocked  unto  his 
sons-in-law.  And  when  the  morning  arose,  then  the  angels 
hastened  Lot,  saying,  Arise,  take  thy  wife  and  thy  two  daugh¬ 
ters,  which  are  here  ;  lest  thou  be  consumed  in  the  iniquity 
of  the  city.  And  while  he  lingered,  the  men  laid  hold  upon 
his  hand,  and  upon  the  hand  of  his  wife,  and  upon  the  hand 
of  his  two  daughters  ;  the  Lord  being  merciful  unto  him :  and 
they  brought  him  forth,  and  set  him  without  the  city.  And 
it  came  to  pass,  when  they  had  brought  them  forth  abroad 
that  he  said,  Escape  for  thy  life  ;  look  not  behind  thee,  neither 
stay  thou  in  all  the  plain ;  escape  to  the  mountain,  lest  thou 
be  consumed.  And  Lot  said  unto  them,  Oh,  not  so,  my 
Lord  :  behold  now,  thy  servant  hath  found  grace  in  thy  sight, 
and  thou  hast  magnified  thy  mercy,  which  thou  hast  shewed 
unto  me  in  saving  my  life ;  and  I  cannot  escape  to  the  moun- 


304 


THE  DEAD  SEA. 


tain,  lest  some  evil  take  me,  and  I  die :  behold  now,  this  city 
is  near  to  flee  unto,  and  it  is  a  little  one  :  Oh,  let  me  escape 
thither  (is  it  not  a  little  one?)  and  my  soul  shall  live.  And 
he  said  unto  him,  See,  I  have  accepted  thee  concerning  this 
thing  also,  that  I  will  not  overthrow  this  city,  for  the  which 
thou  hast  spoken.  Haste  thee,  escape  thither  ;  for  I  cannot 
do  any  thing  till  thou  be  come  thither.  Therefore  the  name 
of  the  city  was  called  Zoar.  Then  the  Lord  rained  upon 
Sodom  and  upon  Gomorrah  brimstone  and  fire  from  the  Lord 
out  of  heaven  ;  and  he  overthrew  those  cities,  and  all  the 
plain,  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities,  and  that  which 
grew  upon  the  ground.  But  his  wife  looked  back  from  be¬ 
hind  him,  and  she  became  a  pillar  of  salt.  And  Abraham 
gat  up  early  in  the  morning  to  the  place  where  he  stood  be¬ 
fore  the  Lord :  and  he  looked  toward  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
and  toward  all  the  land  of  the  plain,  and  beheld,  and  lo,  the 
smoke  of  the  country  went  up  as  the  smoke  of  a  furnace. 
And  it  came  to  pass,  when  God  destroyed  the  cities  of  the 
plain,  that  God  remembered  Abraham,  and  sent  Lot  out  of 
the  midst  of  the  overthrow,  when  he  overthrew  the  cities  in 
the  which  Lot  dwelt.”*  There  was  an  awful  interest  about 
the  whole  scene  and  its  associations  which  I  cannot  forget. 
After  united  prayer  and  praise,  we  laid  ourselves  down  to  rest 
for  the  night  on  the  sands  of  the  Dead  Sea  shore  ;  and  soon 
almost  the  silence  of  death  hung  over  us. 

Our  intention  was  to  be  moving  on  the  following  morning 
as  early  as  four  o’clock ;  and  our  plan  was  to  send  on  the 
servants  with  tents  and  baggage  direct  towards  Jericho,  with 
directions  to  find  Ayun  Sultan — or  u  the  fountain  of  Elisha,” 
and  there  to  have  refreshment  ready  for  us  on  our  return 
from  the  Jordan.  They  were  to  have  part  of  our  Bedaween 
as  an  escort,  while  Sheikh  Hamdan  and  the  remainder  were 
to  conduct  us  to  the  Jordan,  and  protect  us  against  the  Beni 
Sakhrs,  in  case  any  of  them  should  be  lying  in  wait,  which 
was  probable  enough,  as  they  might  have  seen  our  fires  burn¬ 
ing  on  the  previous  evening.  It  was  a  lovely  grey  morning 

*  Genesis  xix.  12 — 29. 


THE  DEAD  SEA'. 


305 


when  I  rose  before  the  sun.  It  was  a  scene  of  wild  and  dread 
desolation  on  which  I  gazed  southwards — the  outspread  wa¬ 
ters  of  the  Dead  Sea  shut  in  east  and  west  by  the  bold  and 
precipitous  heights  of  Moab  and  Judea.  The  morning  breeze 
caused  a  slight  ripple  on  the  surface  of  the  stagnant  waters, 
which  appeared  clear  and  bright.  There  is  considerable 
action  of  the  water  at  some  times,  as  I  judged  from  the  de¬ 
posit,  about  a  yard  distant  from  its  northwestern  brink,  of 
small  branches  of  trees,  reeds,  &c.,  which  had  been  carried 
clown  by  the  rapid  stream  of  the  Jordan.  My  friend  and  fel¬ 
low  traveller,  Mr.  Erskine,  bathed  in  the  Dead  Sea,  and  found 
the  water  extremely  buoyant.  I  could  not  quite  make  up  my 
mind  to  the  experiment ;  but  I  tasted  the  water.  It  is  impos¬ 
sible  to  express  the  intensity  of  its  nauseousness  when  taken 
in  sufficient  quantity,  and  retained  long  enough  to  act  upon 
the  palate.  It  has  two  distinct  flavors  when  first  tasted, 
which  soon  unite  and  make  a  most  loathsome  compound. 
The  first  is  of  extremely  pungent  saltness,  and  capable  of  ex¬ 
coriating  the  palate.  The  other  is  sheer  bitterness — and  so 
bitter,  that  it  seems  to  penetrate  the  skin  of  the  mouth. 
Though  I  took  no  more  than  about  half  a  wine  glass  full  in 
my  mouth,  and  did  not  swallow  any,  yet  my  palate  was  satu¬ 
rated  with  it,  and  the  sensation  remained  during  the  day.  I 
brought  away  a  bottle  of  this  loathsome  water,  and  a  few 
pebbles  from  the  shore. 

This  remarkable  inland  sea,  or  lake,  is  spoken  of  in  Scrip¬ 
ture  by  the  name  of  the  u  Salt  Sea”*  the  u  East  Seaf  f  and 
the  “  Sea  of  the  Plain.”\  The  Greek  and  Roman  writers 
have  called  it  uLacus  Asphaltitesf  on  account  of  the  quantities 
of  bitumen  found  in  and  about  it.  Its  present  Arabic  name 
is  u  Bahr  Lout ”  (the  Sea  of  Lot),  which  helps  to  identify  it 
as  the  scene  of  God’s  fearful  judgments  upon  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah.  Its  dimensions  have  been  variously  estimated. 
Dr.  Robinson,  a  recent  and  accurate  observer,  supposes  it  tc 
be  about  fifty  miles  from  north  to  south ;  and  about  twelve,  in 

*Gen.xiv.3;  Deut.  iii,  17;  Josh.  xv.  5.  t  Ezek.  xlvii.  18;  Joel  ii.20. 

X  Deut.  iii.  17. 

26* 


306 


THE  DEAD  SEA. 


the  widest  parts,  from  east  to  west.  I  had  no  means  of  judg 
ing,  as  I  only  visited  the  north-western  shore.  It  covers  the 
once  charming  valley  of  Siddim,  which  the  sacred  penman 
compared  to  “  the  garden  of  the  Lord  and  on  which  once 
stood  thefive  guilty  cities,  Sodom,  Gomorrah,  Admah,  Ze- 
boim,  and  Zoar.  The  present  aspect  of  this  region  was 
well  described  by  Moses,  in  a  memorable  passage,!  depicting 
the  desolations  of  Judea — ■“  The  generation  to  come  of  your 
children,  that  shall  rise  up  after  you,  and  the  stranger  that 
shall  come  from  a  far  land,  shall  say,  when  they  see  the 
plagues  of  that  land,  and  the  sickness  which  the  Lord  hath 
laid  upon  it :  and  that  the  whole  land  thereof  is  brimstone  and 
salt  and  burning,  that  it  is  not  sown,  nor  beareth,  nor  any 
grass  groweth  therein,  like  the  overthrow  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah,  Admah,  and  Zeboim,  which  the  Lord  overthrew 
in  his  anger,  and  in  his  wrath  ;  even  all  nations  shall  say,” 
&c.  The  page  of  Scripture  makes  the  region  of  the  Dead 
Sea  eloquent  to  the  guilty  heart  of  man.  St.  Peter  felt  this 
when  he  spake  of  God  turning  the  cities  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah  into  ashes,  condemning  them  with  an  overthrow 
and  making  them  an  example  unto  those  that  after  should  live 
ungodly-!  With  the  recortl  of  that  terrible  event  before  us, 
how  awfully  impressive  are  our  Lord's  words  to  those  who 
though  living  in  the  light  of  divine  truth,  reject  the  offers  of 
sovereign  mercy — “And  whosoever  shall  not  receive  you,  nor 
hear  your  words,  when  ye  depart  out  of  that  house  or  city, 
shake  off  the  dust  of  your  feet.  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  it 
shall  be  more  tolerable  for  the  land  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah 
in  the  day  of  judgment,  than  for  that  city.”§ 

There  is  no  visible  outlet  to  the  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea ; 
but  a  process  of  evaporation  is  constantly  going  on,  which 
accounts  for  the  misty  appearance  so  generally  visible  over 
its  surface,  and  which  in  the  imagination  of  ancient  writers, 
clothed  it  with  supernatural  horrors.  But  as  it  does  not  seem 
probable  that  evaporation  alone  could  keep  such  a  body  of 
water  and  its  vast  and  perpetual  additions  within  their  usual 
*  Gen.  xiii.  10.  t  Deut.  xxix.  22,  23.  J  2  Peter  ii.  (5.  §  Matt.  x.  1 4, 15. 


fHE  DEAD  SEA. 


307 


bounds,  many  intelligent  travellers  have  ventured  a  not  un¬ 
likely  supposition,  that  it  must  throw  off  its  superfluous 
quantity  by  some  subterraneous  channel  leading  westward 
towards  the  Mediterranean.  It  has  been  calculated  by  Dr. 
Shaw,  an  accurate  minded  man,  upon  data  easily  ascertained, 
that  the  River  Jordan  discharges  daily,  upon  an  average, 
6,090,000  tuns  of  water  into  the  Dead  Sea;  in  addition  to 
which,  it  receives  large  contributions  from  the  Arnon,  and 
several  other  smaller  streams. 

An  analysis  of  the  water  of  the  Dead  Sea  was  made  by  Dr. 
Marcet,  in  1807;  and  the  experiment  has  since  been  made  by 
other  scientific  men,  with  results  very  nearly  similar.  The 
Doctor  observes,  that  the  application  of  tests,  or  re-agents, 
proves  that  it  contains  the  muriatic  and  sulphuric  acids. 
There  is  no  alumina  in  it,  nor  does  it  appear  to  be  saturated 
with  marine  salt,  or  muriate  of  soda.  On  summing  up  the 
contents  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  grains  of  the  water,  they 
were  found  to  hold  in  solution  the  following  substances,  and 
in  the  undermentioned  proportions  : — 

Salts  Acid 

5-88  grains  . .  3-89  grains. 

15-37  -  ..  8-61  - 

15.54  -  ..  7-i5  - 

0  08  -  . . 

36-87  19-65 

And,  consequently,  the  proportions  of  these  salts  in  one 
hundred  grains  of  the  water,  would  be  : — 

Grains 


Muriate  of  Lime .  3  920 

Muriate  of  Magnesia .  10-246 

Muriate  of  Soda  .  10  360 

Sulphate  of  Lime .  0  054 


24-580 


Muriate  of  Lime . 

Muriate  of  Magnesia  .... 

Muriate  of  Soda . 

Selenite . 


So  that  the  water  of  the  lake  contains  about  one  fourth  of  its 
weight  of  salts  supposed  in  a  state  of  perfect  desiccation ; 
or,  if  they  be  desiccated  at  the  temperature  of  180°  on  Fahren 


SODOM — GOMORRAH,  ETC. 


308 

heit’s  scale,  they  will  amount  to  forty-one  per  cent,  of  the 
water.”* 

Until  recently,  a  general  opinion  prevailed,  as  I  have 
already  intimated  in  a  foregoing  part  of  this  volume,!  that  the 
broad  Wadey  of  El  Arabah,  which  extends  from  the  southern 
shore  of  the  Dead  Sea  to  the  eastern  arm  of  the  Red  Sea,  was 
anciently  a  prolongation  of  the  plains  of  Jordan  :  that  no  lake 
like  the  Dead  Sea  existed  in  the  plain  previous  to  the  destruc¬ 
tion  of  Sodom ;  and  that  the  Jordan  continued  its  course 
throughout  the  whole  of  Wadey  el  Arabah,  and  emptied  its 
streams  into  the  Red  Sea.  But  subsequent  enquiries  seem  to 
have  determined  the  question  the  other  way,  so  as  to  lead  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  Jordan  could  never  have  flowed 
through  Wadey  el  Arabah ;  and  consequently  that  a  lake 
must  have  existed  in  the  vale  of  Siddim,  ever  since  the  Jordan 
began  to  flow  down  from  Lebanon,  and  that  the  Dead  Sea 
does  not  owe  its  existence  to  the  destruction  of  the  cities  of  the 
plain,  though  it  certainly  fixes  their  locality.  The  facts  upon 
which  this  conclusion  has  been  formed,  are  agreed  upon  by 
Professor  Robinson  and  Count  de  Bertou  ;  the  latter  of  whom 
traversed  the  whole  of  Wadey  el  Arabah,  and  made  his 
observations  with  great  care.  They  are  these  :  first,  that  the 
level  of  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  plains  of  the  Jordan  generally, 
is  very  much  below  that  of  the  Red  Sea  ;  secondly,  that 
Wadey  el  Arabah  rises  gradually,  southward,  as  far  as 
Wadey  Talh ;  and  that  all  the  springs  in  this  portion  of  the 
valley  take  a  northerly  direction,  and  flow  into  the  Dead  Sea. 

The  exact  site  of  the  five  cities  of  the  plain  is  a  subject  of 
interesting  inquiry,  and  admits,  I  think,  of  much  certainty, 
supposing  it  to  be  true  that  a  lake,  though  of  much  smaller 
dimensions  than  those  of  the  Dead  Sea,  in  its  present  state, 

*  My  limits  forbid  more  lengthened  particulars  concerning  this  deeply 
interesting  object  and  its  phenomena;  but  those  readers  who  may  desire 
further  information,  may  consult  with  advantage  Maundrell,  pp.  136,  &c. ; 
Shaw,  pp.  346,  &c. ;  Mariti,  vol.  ii.  pp.  370,  &c. ;  Burekhardt,  pp.  392, 
&c. ;  Irby  and  Mangles,  pp.  446,  &c. ;  Fdliot,  vol.  ii.  pp.  479,  (fee. ;  Stephens, 
vol.  ii.  262,  &c. ;  Professor  Robinson,  Am.  Bib.  Rep.  Series  ii.  vol.  l.  pp. 
419,  422,  413;  Paxton’s  Letters,  pp.  1 59,  &c. 

r  See  page  198. 


SODOM - GOMORRAH,  ETC. 


309 


previously  existed  in  the  vale  of  Siddim.  The  result  of  the 
recent  examinations  above  referred  to,  brings  us  to  this  con¬ 
clusion.  In  stating  it,  I  am  indebted  to  an  intelligent  com¬ 
piler,  who  has  brought  the  subject  to  a  point  in  the  simplest 

manner.*  I  shall  use  his  words.  “  Our  reasons  for  believ- 

* 

ing  this  hypothesis  to  be  the  true  one  are  these:  The  supposi¬ 
tion  of  a  lake  previously  existing  is  unavoidable.  The  bed 
of  the  Jordan  is  so  far  below  the  level  of  El  Arabah  and  the 
Red  Sea,  that  it  is  impossible,  in  the  nature  of  things,  it  ever 
could  have  flowed  through  that  valley.  And  this,  we  con¬ 
ceive,  implies  the  existence  of  a  lake.  But  though  we  are 
obliged  to  suppose  that  a  lake  existed,  we  are  not  obliged  to 
suppose  that  it  was  as  large  as  it  is  at  present.  It  is  natural 
to  think  that  so  terrible  a  catastrophe  happening  on  its  shores 
would  make  some  alteration  in  its  dimensions,  and  most  prob¬ 
ably  enlarge  them.  And  if  we  examine  the  lake,  we  find 
that  it  is,  in  fact,  composed  of  two  lakes,  an  upper  and  a  lower 
— the  former  being  forty  miles  long,  and  the  latter  ten,  assum¬ 
ing  the  whole  at  fifty.  The  division  between  the  two  lakes 
is  strongly  marked.  On  the  shores  the  mountains  approach, 
so  as  almost  to  separate  them  from  above ;  and  in  the  bottom 
a  high  ridge  of  ground  runs  across  from  shore  to  shore,  so  as 
almost  to  divide  them  below  the  surface.  The  water  which 
covers  this  ridge  is  seldom  more  than  two  feet  in  depth,  and 
the  ford  which  the  bottom  offers,  may  be  crossed  by  the 
Arabs  at  all  seasons.  This  ford  is  about  three  hours  (nine 
miles)  from  the  extremity  of  the  lake,  on  the  authority  of 
Burckhardt.  Now,  if  we  suppose  that  the  lake,  in  former 
times,  terminated  at  this  point,  as  the  form  of  the  mountains 
and  the  nature  of  the  bottom  seem  to  indicate,  then,  between 
the  extremity  of  the  lake,  and  the  low  range  of  hills  which 
bound  the  valley  of  the  Jordan  towards  the  south,  and  from 
the  head  of  El  Arabah,  we  have  a  level  and  fertile  plain  of 
seventeen  miles  in  length,  on  which  we  suppose  the  cities 
stood.  The  south-eastern  portion  of  this  plain  is  still  very 

*  The  Rev.  J.  A.  Wylie. — “  Modern  Judea,  &c.  compared  with  Ancient 
Prophecy.”  A  production  of  no  small  merit. 


310 


SODOM — GOMORRAH,  ETC. 


fertile  ;  the  whole  is  abundantly  irrigated.  Its  great  depth 
draws  all  the  streams  of  El  Arabah  into  it.  Numerous  rivu¬ 
lets  descend  on  both  sides  from  the  hills ;  and  to  these  causes, 
no  doubt,  it  owed  the  fertile  aspect  in  which  it  appeared  to 
Lot,  when  he  chose  it  for  the  range  of  his  flocks. 

“  Moreover,  it  is  more  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  five 
cities  stood  on  this  plain,  than  that  they  were  scattered  over 
so  large  a  space  as  that  which  is  now  occupied  by  the  lake. 
Each  of  the  cities,  we  are  told,  had  a  king ;  but  the  kings 
of  those  days  resemble  the  village  sheikhs  of  modern  times ; 
and  even  granting  that  the  cities  were  opulent,  and  had 
dependent  villages  around  them,  still  the  plain  was  amply 
sufficient  to  maintain  them.  In  the  east,  the  towns  were 
thickly  planted,  seldom  at  greater  distances,  as  we  learn  from 
their  ruins,  than  three  or  four  miles — a  space  so  large  as 
that  which  the  waters  of  the  lake  now  cover,  considering  its 
great  fertility,  instead  of  containing  five  would  have  contained 
fifty  cities. 

“  From  the  expression  frequently  used  in  Scripture — 1  Sodom 
and  her  daughters,’  and  from  the  circumstance  of  the  de¬ 
struction  of  the  cities  being  often  mentioned  simply  as  the 
4  overthrow  of  Sodom,’  we  infer  that  Sodom  was  the  capital, 
or  at  least  the  principal  city  of  the  pentapolis ;  and  it  is 
probable  that  the  other  towns  which  perished  with  her  were 
ranged  around  her  at  no  great  distances.  The  exact  part  of 
the  plain  in  which  Sodom  was  situated,  we  do  not  know ;  but 
the  following  consideration  will  satisfy  us,  that  its  site  could 
not  have  been  far  from  what  are  now  the  southern  limits  of 
the  lake. 

“  When  Sodom  fell,  the  little  town  of  Zoar  afforded  refuge 
to  Lot.  The  time  which  Lot  occupied  in  going  thither,  will 
give  us  the  distance  of  Sodom,  the  probable  capital,  fiom 
Zoar.  We  read  that  ‘there  came  two  angels  to  Sodom  at 
even  ;  and  Lot  sat  in  the  gate  of  Sodom.  And  he  said, 
Behold  now,  my  lords,  turn  in,  I  pray  you,  into  your  ser¬ 
vant’s  house  and  tarry  all  night.5  During  night,  the  angels 
disclosed  the  approaching  destruction  of  the  city,  and  enjoined 


SODOM - GOMORRAH,  ETC. 


311 


Lot  to  leave  it,  which  he  did  at  day-break,  but  not  earlier. 
1  When  the  morning'  arose,  then  the  angels  hastened  Lot,’  &c. 
Having  set  out,  he  reached  the  gates  of  Zoar  at  sunrise — 
1  The  sun  was  risen  upon  the  earth,  when  Lot  entered  into 
Zoar.’  It  thus  appears  that  Lot  occupied  only  two  hours  in 
travelling  between  the  two  cities — the  time  from  day-break 
till  sunrise.  Sodom,  consequently,  could  not  have  been  more 
than  six  miles  distant  from  Zoar  ;  and  thus,  its  site  would 
fall  within  the  limits  of  the  lower  lake ;  for  the  head  of  that 
lake  is  three  hours  from  Zoar — the  site  of  Zoar,  which  is 
known  at  this  day,  adjoining  the  southern  extremity  of  the 
lake  Now,  if  we  suppose  that  Sodom  was  the  capital  of  the 
cities,  and  had  her  tributary  towns  arranged  around  her,  it 
will  appear  probable  that  the  site  of  all  these  cities  was 
comprised  in  what  is  now  the  basin  of  the  lower  lake.  The 
ground  on  which  they  stood  being  depressed  by  their  over¬ 
throw,  the  lake  adjoining  them  on  the  north  poured  its  waters 
over  the  low  barrier,  and  covered  forever  from  the  eye  of 
man,  this  scene  of  enormous  wickedness.  Every  considera¬ 
tion  tends  to  this  conclusion.  The  geographical  arrangement 
of  the  region,  and  the  construction  of  the  lake,  indicate  that 
at  some  former  period  it  has  been  enlarged,  and  the  traces  of 
the  pristine  beauties  of  the  plain,  which  are  still  to  be  seen  in 
some  places  on  its  remaining  portion,  tell  us  that  once  it  :  was 
well  watered  every  where’ — ‘  even  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord.’ 
Among  the  many  judgments  which  God  has  inflicted  on  our 
earth,  the  destruction  of  these  cities,  with  the  plain  on 
which  they  stood,  is  perhaps  second,  in  terror,  only  to  the 
deluge.” 

There  is  however,  notwithstanding  all  our  examinations 
and  all  our  speculation,  a  veil  of  awful  mystery  overhanging 
this  dread  locality.  It  is  at  once  a  grave  and  a  monument ; 
a  grave  in  which  slumber  the  thousands  whose  daring  ungod¬ 
liness  cut  them  off  from  mercy — a  grave  whose  chambers 
lead  down  to  hell.  It  is  a  monument,  on  every  hair-breadth 
of  which  is  recorded  in  characters  of  fiery  desolation,  the 
irresistible  terrors  of  a  just — a  tempted — an  avenging  God. 


312 


THE  JORDAN. 


How  astounding  will  be  the  blast  of  the  archangel’s  trump 
when  clanging  amidst  those  bleak  and  barren  rocks,  and 
borne  like  a  spell  over  the  surface  of  those  stagnant  waters  [ 
when  the  resurrection  power  of  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  call  ip 
into  second  life  for  final  judgment,  those  objects  of  Almighty 
wrath,  and  lay  bare  the  gloomy  secret  at  which  we  surmise 
and  shudder. 

- Are  there  not  cities  as  vile,  and  are  there  not  hearts  as 

base,  as  those  on  which  present  desolation  and  the  terrors  of 
hopeless  judgment  are  resting?  And  is  the  justice  of  the 
Almighty  slumbering? - 

Our  plans  would  not  admit  of  lingering  upon  the  shores  of 
the  Dead  Sea.  Soon  after  four  o’clock  in  the  morning  we 
were  ready  to  mount.  We  had  not  advanced  far,  ere  the  first 
crimson  tints  of  the  sun,  like  rays  of  promise,  were  just  visible 
over  the  level  ridge  of  the  mountains  of  Moab — the  same  sun 
which  had  risen  over  the  same  mountain  ever  since  the  mo¬ 
ment  in  which  God  made  two  great  lights,  the  greater  light 
to  rule  the  day.” 

Our  first  intention  was  to  proceed  direct  to  the  mouth  cf 
the  Jordan,  and  so  to  have  coursed  along  its  banks  to  the  par 
ticular  part  which,  time  out  of  mind,  has  been  visited  by  pil¬ 
grims  of  all  climes,  as  the  scene  of  our  adorable  Redeemer’s 
baptism ;  but,  finding  that  it  would  greatly  increase  our  labor, 
without  really  enhancing  the  interest  of  the  visit,  by  driving 
us  into  the  heat  of  the  day,  we  resolved  on  taking  a  course 
north-east,  and  so  reach  the  particular  spot  in  the  most  direct 
way.  The  plains  of  Jordan  ! — How  difficult  it  was  to  realize 
the  fact,  that  my  feet  pressed  them  ;  that  my  eye  gazed  upon 
them. 

The  breadth  of  the  valley  of  the  Jordan  is  said  to  average 
about  fifteen  miles ;  and  nearly  in  the  middle  of  it  is  the  bed 
of  the  river.  On  the  east  are  the  plains  of  Moab,  bounded  by 
the  range  of  Abarim,  with  Nebo  looking  over  the  valley. 
The  plains  on  the  west  are  more  dreary  in  their  aspect  than 
the  eastern  ones.  They  are  bounded  by  the  mountains  of 
Judea.  They  appear  as  if  they  had  been  covered  with  pow 


THE  JORDAN. 


313 


dered  sulphur,  with  which  saline  particles  are  mixed.  Not 
an  object  was  seen  in  motion  hut  ourselves.  The  wide  waste 
seemed  like  the  abode  of  silence,  and  as  if  death  there  held 
his  court.  And  when  we  gazed  upwards  to  the  mountains,  it 
was  difficult  to  believe  that  they  should  be  the  haunts  of  men 
— of  tribes — wild — daring — ferocious,  whose  only  law  is  that 
of  the  sword. 

We  proceeded  over  a  waste  sandy  plain  at  the  first,  in 
which  our  horses  sank  up  to  the  fetlock  joint.  In  about  an 
hour  we  reached  the  Jordan,  fringed  by  beautifully  rich 
foliage  of  tamarisk,  oleander,  and  other  tall  shrubs  ;  the  green 
of  which  was  unspeakably  lovely,  springing  up  as  it  seemed 
to  do,  out  of  the  very  aridness  of  the  plains.  Our  Bedaween 
distributed  themselves  at  a  distance  in  advance  of  us,  so  as  to 
command  an  extensive  view,  for  which  purpose  they  ascended 
every  knoll  of  sand  and  rising  ground  that  lay  in  their  way, 
in  order  to  be  aware,  if  possible,  of  any  of  the  Beni  Sakhrs 
lying  in  ambush,  or  coming  down  on  us  from  the  mountains. 
They  acted  with  the  greatest  precaution,  and  had  their  wea¬ 
pons  in  hand  ready  for  any  surprise.  The  course  of  the 
Jordan  is,  on  either  side,  quite  concealed  by  the  thick  foliage 
which  it  nourishes ;  and  this  is  often  made  a  place  of  ambus¬ 
cade,  from  which  the  Beni  Sakhrs  fire  upon  loitering  pilgrims. 
Happily  we  reached  the  place  of  destination  without  the  least 
molestation  ;  and  our  Arabs  distributed  themselves  so  as  to 
keep  due  watch  while  we  remained.  The  bed  of  the  river  is 
deep,  and  its  course  extremely  rapid  ;  so  much  so,  that  on  the 
last  occasion  of  the  general  pilgrimage  from  Jerusalem,  an 
aged  Greek  priest,  unable  to  resist  its  force,  was  carried  down, 
and  perished  in  the  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

The  Jordan  has  its  source  a  few  miles  north  of  Banias  (the 
ancient  Caesarea  Philippi),  in  a  small  pool  on  the  western 
slope  of  Gebel-es-Sheikh,  or  Hermon,  the  highest  point  of  the 
anti-Libanus  of  antiquity.  It  pursues  its  lovely  course  south¬ 
ward,  along  the  great  Syrian  valley ;  thence  it  passes  through 
the  waters  of  Merom  and  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  finally  con¬ 
tributes  its  treasure  to  the  Dead  Sea.  Its  whole  length  is 

27 


314 


THE  JORDAN. 


about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  As  it  proceeds  onwards, 
sometimes  with  great  noise  and  force,  and  at  others  with  a 
smooth  and  silent  flow,  its  stream,  though  but  inconsiderable 
at  first,  receives  contributions  in  its  way,  from  the  many  rivu¬ 
lets  which  trickle  from  the  hills  of  Galilee  and  Judea  on  the 
one  side,  and  from  those  of  Gilead  and  Abarim  on  the  other. 
I  drank  very  copiously  of  its  delicious  water,  which  has  the 
softness  of  milk.  It  was  not  easy  to  know  when  I  had  drunk 
enough.  I  could  but  feel  it  was  a  great  pity  that  such  a  de¬ 
licious  fluid  should  waste  its  sweetness  in  the  awful  and  bitter 
reservoir  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Perhaps  the  greatest  refreshment 
I  experienced,  was  a  delightful  dip  in  the  waters  of  Jordan,  in 
a  lovely,  secluded  part,  overhung  with  tamarisks,  oleanders, 
and  other  luxuriantly  growing  trees,  which  afforded  a  grateful 
shade.  And  it  was  a  charming  thought,  as  the  sweet  waters 
passed  over  my  head,  that  perhaps  that  very  spot  (for  so  tra¬ 
dition  affirmed),  had  been  hallowed  by  the  presence  and  bap¬ 
tism  of  my  Redeemer,  and  had  witnessed  the  ministry  of  that 
distinguished  person  who  was  the  “  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
wilderness,  prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord.” 

The  morning  sun  was  now  gaining  power,  and  warning  us 
to  leave  the  cool  banks  of  the  Jordan,  that  we  might  accom¬ 
plish  our  route  across  the  plain  to  Jericho,  before  the  intense 
heat  should  overtake  us.  The  most  trying  part  of  Palestine, 
in  point  of  heat,  is  said  to  be  El  Ghor,  the  plain  which  lay 
between  us  and  Jericho.  After  spending  about  an  hour  in 
and  about  the  Jordan,  we  resumed  our  route,  striking  directly 
across  the  plain  westward.  We  were,  however,  attracted  by 
a  small  ruin  lying  in  a  south-westerly  direction  to  which  we 
bent  our  steps.  The  first  thought  was,  that  it  might  be  Gil- 
gal:  but,  on  reaching  it,  we  ascertained  that  it  was  the  ruin 
of  a  Greek  church  and  convent,  originally  intended  for  the 
accommodation  of  pilgrims  to  the  Jordan.  Some  remains  of 
paintings,  and  an  inscription  or  two,  were  still  visible  on  its 
shattered  walls.  It  has  been  in  ruins  for  upwards  of  three 
hundred  years.  We  could  not  get  more  precise  information 
about  it  from  our  Arabs;  but  Dr.  Robinson  appears  to  have 


HIE  PLAIN  OF  JERICHO. 


315 


been  more  successful.  From  him  I  learn,  that  the  native 
Christians  call  it  Deir  Mar  Yohanna  Hajla,  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  remains  of  another  convent  dedicated  to  John  the 
Baptist,  near  the  river  farther  north. 

Our  way  towards  Jericho  was  over  a  plain,  which  from  the 
nature  of  the  soil  seemed  capable  of  fruitful  cultivation.  It 
afforded  pasturage  for  cattle  in  various  parts,  and  low  stunted 
shrubs  in  others ;  and  here  and  there,  we  saw  small  parties 
of  Arabs  of  the  same  tribe  as  our  escort,  gathered  round  their 
fires,  even  at  a  time  when  the  sun  was  very  powerful.  We 
did  not  pass  near  enough  to  exchange  salutations  with  them. 
We  were  soon  upon  the  plain  of  Jericho,  with  sufficient  traces 
of  ancient  fruitfulness  on  every  side,  to  satisfy  the  observer 
that  the  ancient  descriptions  were  correct.  Justin  (who  de¬ 
scribes  it  as  it  was  but  a  little  while  after  the  time  of  Christ), 
says  that  it  is  a  valley  like  a  garden,  environed  by  continual 
hills  which  enclose  it  like  a  wall,  containing  two  hundred 
thousand  acres,  and  famous  for  its  woods,  especially  its  palm 
trees  and  opobalsams.*  The  statements  of  Josephus  are  to 
the  same  effect.  He  says — “  There  are  in  it  many  sorts  of 

palm-trees . different  from  each  other  in  taste  and 

name  ;  the  better  sort  of  them  when  they  are  pressed,  yield 
an  excellent  kind  of  honey,  not  much  inferior  in  sweetness  to 
other  honey.  It  also  bears  that  balsam  which  is  the  most 
precious  of  all  the  fruits  of  that  place ;  cypress  trees  also,  and 

those  that  bear  myrobalanum . It  will  not  be  easy 

to  light  on  any  climate  in  the  habitable  earth  that  can  well 
be  compared  with  it — what  is  here  sown,  comes  up  in  such 
clusters.  The  ambient  air  is  here  also  of  so  good  a  tempera¬ 
ture,  that  the  people  of  the  country  are  clothed  in  linen  only, 
even  when  the  snow  covers  the  rest  of  Judea.”f  The  account 
of  Tacitus  agrees  with  this.  But  how  great  is  the  change. 
The  plain  is  still  the  same  ;  the  mountains  of  Judea  have  not 
changed  their  places ;  but  the  balsams  are  gone,  the  stately 

*  Palaestina  Illustrata,  tom.  I.,  p.  383. 

t  Josephus — “  Wars  of  the  Jews,”  book  iv.  chap.  viii.  sec.  3. 


316 


JERICHO. 


palm  trees  wave  not  in  the  breeze ;  nor  are  skill  and  industry 
in  active  service  to  aid  the  deficiencies  of  nature. 

We  were  not  long  in  reaching  the  miserable  remains  of  a 
poor  village,  usually  called  Jericho.  But  instead  of  this,  there 
is  some  probability  from  the  accounts  of  Josephus,  that  it  is 
Gilgal ;  and  that  the  far  more  extensive  ruins  beyond  mark 
the  site  of  Jericho.  That  Jericho  really  stood  thereabouts, 
and  Ai  not  far  distant,  is  beyond  all  doubt.  The  position  of 
the  city  of  Jericho  must  have  been  charming  indeed,  looking 
down,  as  it  did,  upon  the  plain  of  Jordan,  bounded  by  the 
hills  of  Moab.  Round  about  these  ruins,  which  I  deem  to 
be  Jericho,  there  is  a  considerable  cultivation  of  excellent 
land.  Indian  wheat,  common  wheat,  with  fig  and  nabbukh 
trees  abound  on  all  sides.  The  supply  of  water  is  ample ; 
and  if  extensive  irrigation  were  introduced  the  fertility  of  the 
soil  would  be  incredible. 

While  I  write,  I  can,  in  imaginative  recollection,  stand  on 
the  site  of  Jericho  ;  and  while  looking  down  towards  Jordan, 
can  bring  upon  the  scene  the  shadows  of  men,  and  of  events 

in  man’s  history,  which  make  the  heart  vibrate.  - There 

is  a  vast  company  which  no  man  can  number,  crowded  upon 
the  plains  of  Moab.  They  are  a  bannered  host,  and  terrible 
in  their  bearing.  There  is  a  stir  of  preparation.  The  dust 
of  the  plain  rises  in  clouds  about  them.  There  is  a  noble 
chief  in  the  midst,  haranguing  the  surrounding  thousands. 
They  are  on  the  brink  of  Jordan.  Those  thousands  are  the 
people  of  Israel.  That  chief  is  Joshua,  bearing  his  high 
commission  to  bring  the  people  over  Jordan  into  the  promised 
land — the  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey,  which  is  the 
glory  of  all  lands.  The  priests  are  uplifting  the  ark  of  the 
covenant.  They  advance  to  the  van.  The  people  press  for¬ 
ward  in  eager  expectation.  Their  wanderings  are  at  an 
end.  Their  warfare  is  about  to  begin.  The  Lord  of  Hosts 
is  with  them,  and  with  Joshua  the  man  of  God.  They  still 
advance.  The  feet  of  those  that  bear  the  ark  are  dipped  in 
the  brim  of  the  water ;  and — marvellous  to  tell  (surely  the 
l«ord  is  in  the  midst  of  them),  while  1  gaze,  the  waters  which 


JERICHO - JORDAN. 


317 


came  down  from  above  are  standing  up  upon  a  heap,  very 
far  from  the  city  Adam,  that  is  beside  Zaretan  :  and  the  wa 
ters  which  came  down  toward  the  sea  of  the  plain,  even  the 
salt  sea,  are  failing:  see — they  have  failed,  and  are  cut  off. 
It  is  the  miraculous  working  of  Jehovah.  The  people  are 
passing  over  Jordan — right  against  Jericho.  Jordan  is  driven 
back.  The  priests  bearing  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  the 
Lord,  are  standing  firm  on  the  dry  ground  in  the  midst  of  the 
river-bed,  and  the  thousands  of  Israel  have  passed  over  on  dry 
ground.  u  What  ailed  thee,  O  Jordan,  that  thou  wast  driven 
back?”  Thou  hast  heard  the  voice  of  Jehovah  and  obeyed 
it.  He  hath  performed  his  covenant.  Israel  is  in  the  prom¬ 
ised  land.  The  priests,  too,  who  bore  the  ark  of  the  covenant 
are  come  up  out  of  the  midst  of  Jordan ;  the  waters  of  Jor¬ 
dan  are  returning  to  their  place  :  the  laws  of  nature  are  re¬ 
stored  :  and  now — now — the  sparkling  stream  overflows  its 
banks  as  it  did  before.  And  hark — listen  to  the  voice  of  the 
leader — to  the  voice  of  Joshua.  The  exulting  people  are 
hanging  on  his  lips  : — “  When  your  children  shall  ask  their 
fathers  in  time  to  come,  What  mean  these  stones  ?  Then  ye 
shall  let  your  children  know,  saying,  Israel  came  over  this 
Jordan  on  dry  land.  For  the  Lord  your  God  dried  up  the 
waters  of  Jordan  from  before  you,  until  ye  were  passed  over 
as  the  Lord  your  God  did  to  the  Red  Sea,  which  he  dried  up 
from  before  us,  until  we  were  gone  over :  that  all  the  people 
of  the  earth  might  know  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  that  it  is 
mighty  :  that  ye  might  fear  the  Lord  your  God  forever.”* 

I  felt  myself  to  be  standing  on  the  scene  of  wonderful 
transactions  as  I  looked  upon  the  remains  of  Jericho.  Is¬ 
rael  came  up  mightily  from  Jordan — “  And  it  came  to  pass, 
when  all  the  kings  of  the  Amorites,  which  were  on  the  side 
of  Jordan  westward,  and  all  the  kings  of  the  Canaanites, 
which  were  by  the  sea,  heard  that  the  Lord  had  dried  up  the 
waters  of  Jordan  from  before  the  children  of  Israel,  until  they 
were  passed  over,  that  their  heart  melted,  neither  was  there 
spirit  in  them  any  more  because  of  the  children  of  Israel. ”f 

*  See  Joshua  iii.  iv.  t  Joshua  v,  1. 


27* 


318 


JERICHO. 


The  conquest  of  Canaan  had  already  actually  begun  in  the 
faintheartedness  of  the  kings,  when  Joshua  having  circum¬ 
cised  the  people,  and  rolled  away  the  reproach  of  Egypt  from 
them,*  beheld  them  encamped  at  Gilgal,  in  the  plains  of  Je¬ 
richo.  t 

And  there  stood  Jericho  in  the  pride  of  her  strength — the 
devoted  city.  Joshua  surveyed  her  fastnesses.  The  word  of 
Jehovah  was  with  him.  “  And  it  came  to  pass  that  when 
Joshua  was  by  Jericho,  that  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  looked, 
and  behold  there  stood  a  man  over  against  him  with  his 
sword  drawn  in  his  hand:  and  Joshua  went  unto  him  and 
said  unto  him,  Art  thou  for  us  or  for  our  adversaries?  And 
he  said,  Nay  :  hut  as  captain  of  the  host  of  the  Lord  am  I 
now  come.  And  Joshua  fell  on  his  face  to  the  earth,  and  did 
worship,  and  said  unto  him,  What  saith  my  Lord  unto  his 
servant  ?  And  the  captain  of  the  Lord’s  host  said  unto 
Josnua,  Loose  thy  shoe  from  off  thy  foot,  for  the  place 
whereon  thou  standest  is  holy.”;};  The  God  of  Israel  was 
then  preparing  for  his  mighty  work,  while  Jericho  was 
straitly  shut  up  because  of  the  children  of  Israel.  Six  times 
and  for  six  days  did  the  priests,  bearing  the  ark  of  the  eove 
nant,  compass  the  city,  blowing  with  the  trumpets  of  rams’ 
horns  according  to  the  commandment  ;  while  bands  of  armed 
men  swelled  the  train,  amidst  the  silence  of  the  thousands  of 
Israel,  who  shouted  not,  nor  uttered  any  voice.  Jericho  still 
stoood  in  her  pride  of  place.  The  seventh  day  dawned  upon 
her.  Seven  times,  on  that  seventh  day,  did  the  priests  com¬ 
pass  her  about,  still  bearing  the  ark  of  the  covenant.  The 
last  step  was  taken.  The  work  of  preparation  was  complete. 
u  And  it  came  to  pass  at  the  seventh  time,  when  the  priests 
blew  with  the  trumpets,  Joshua  said  unto  the  people,  Shout ; 
for  the  Lord  hath  given  you  the  city.  And  the  city  shall  be 
accursed,  even  it,  and  all  that  are  therein,  to  the  Lord  ;  only 
Rahab  the  harlot  shall  live,  she  and  all  that  are  in  her  house, 

because  she  hid  the  messengers  that  we  sent . So  the 

people  shouted  when  the  priests  blew  with  the  trumpets  ;  and 

*  Joshua  v.  9.  +  Joshua  v.  10.  t  Joshua  v.  13 — 15. 


JERICHO. 


3  IQ 


it  came  to  pass,  when  the  people  heard  the  sound  of  the  trum¬ 
pet  and  the  people  shouted  with  a  great  shout,  that  the  wall 
fell  down  flat,  so  that  the  people  wrent  up  into  the  city,  every 

man  straight  before  him,  and  they  took  the  city . And 

Joshua  adjured  them  at  that  time,  saying,  Cursed  be  the  man 
before  the  Lord,  that  raisethup  and  buildeth  this  city  Jericho  : 
he  shall  lay  the  foundation  thereof  in  his  first-born,  and  in 
his  youngest  son  shall  he  set  up  the  gates  of  it.”* 

The  curse  of  Jehovah  thus  rested  on  the  fallen  greatness 
of  Jericho.  Who  can  stand  against  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  when 
his  word  has  gone  forth?  The  word  was  literally  fulfilled 
more  than  five  hundred  years  after  it  was  uttered,  in  the  time 
of  Ahab  ;  for  u  in  his  days  did  Hiel  the  Beth-elite  build  Jeri¬ 
cho  :  he  laid  the  foundation  thereof  in  Abiram  his  first-born, 
and  set  up  the  gates  thereof  in  his  youngest  son  Segub,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  word  of  the  Lord,  which  he  spake  by  Joshua, 
the  son  of  Nun  ;”f  but  as  it  appears,  that  during  the  interval^ 
there  existed  a  city  called  the  City  of  Palm  Trees,  or  Jericho, 
it  has  been  conjectured  that  the  act  against  which  the 
curse  was  directed,  was  an  attempt  at  the  restoration  of  the 
walls — the  very  walls  which  had  been  miraculously  cast 
down. 

Jericho  was  one  of  the  Levitical  cities.  In  the  time  of  our 
Lord,  it  was  next  in  size  and  political  importance  to  Jerusa¬ 
lem  itself.  It  was  much  adorned  by  Herod  ;  and  contained 
a  stately  palace  and  other  public  buildings  erected  by  him. 
It  experienced  many  vicissitudes.  Till  it  was  sacked  by  Ves¬ 
pasian,  it  grew  in  importance  ;  after  which  event  it  was  re¬ 
paired  by  Adrian,  and  at  length  became  the  see  of  a  bishop 
under  Justinian.  It  was  finally  destroyed  in  the  twelth  cen¬ 
tury  of  the  Christian  era,  by  the  troops  of  Saladin  :  and  now 
— an  inconsiderable  heap  of  ruins  remains  to  declare — This 
was  Jericho ! 

It  is  probable  that  our  Redeemer  frequently  visited  Jericho  ; 
but  it  is  made  distinctly  memorable  in  reference  to  him,  on 


*  See  Joshua  vi. 

t  See  Judges  '.  16  ;  iii.  13  ;  2  Sam.  x.  5. 


1 1  Kings  xvi.  34. 


320 


FOUNTAIN  OF  ELISRa. 


the  occasion  of  his  last  approach  to  Jerusalem,  when  the  time 
of  his  offering  up  was  at  hand.  It  was  there  that  he  de 
dared,  concerning  the  eager  and  enquiring  Zaccheus,  u  This 
day  is  salvation  come  to  this  house,  forasmuch  as  he  also  is  a 
son  of  Abraham  :  for  the  Son  of  Man  is  come  to  seek  and  to 
save  that  which  is  lost.”* 

The  distance  of  Jericho  from  die  River  Jordan,  is  comput¬ 
ed  at  about  seven  English  miles.  Lying  across  a  plain,  over 
which  the  eye  glances  rapidly,  and  seen  in  an  exceedingly 
clear  atmosphere,  the  distance  appears  less.  Jericho  is  distant 
from  Jerusalem  nearly  nineteen  English  miles,  by  a  moun¬ 
tainous  and  difficult  road,  of  which  I  shall  have  occasion  by 
and  by  to  speak. 

Having  been  for  some  hours  exposed  to  the  heat  of  the 
morning  sun,  it  was  delightful  to  hear  the  sound  of  running 
water,  amidst  some  overhanging  trees  of  considerable  growth. 
We  hoped  our  servants  and  Arabs  were  not  far  distant.  Sud¬ 
denly  we  took  a  turn  in  the  road — and  there,  stretched  along 
in  the  shade,  lay  the  whole  party  whom  we  had  sent  in  ad¬ 
vance  from  the  Dead  Sea.  Our  breakfast,  consisting  of  coarse 
bread,  figs,  honey  and  coffee,  was  spread  for  us  under  the  deep 
shadow  of  a  noble  nabbukh  tree,  impervious  to  the  sun,  while 
close  at  hand,  and  at  our  very  feet,  as  we  reclined,  ran  a  rapid 
stream,  as  clear  as  crystal,  fringed  with  water-cresses,  and 
flowing  immediately  from  Ayun  es  Sultan — the  fountain  of 
Elisha.  I  never  shall  cease  to  remember  that  precious — pre¬ 
cious  stream.  We  drank  copiously  of  its  cool,  sweet  waters ; 
and  I  could  have  said — here  let  me  rest  all  the  day.  Its  water- 
cresses  were  delicious.  The  Arabs  do  not  seem  to  under¬ 
stand  the  value  of  them.  It  was  a  charming  spot  in  which 
we  took  our  morning  rest  and  refreshment,  embosomed  in 
thick,  lofty  trees,  of  various  kinds,  such  as  pomegranates,  figs, 
and  nabbukhs. 

After  breakfast,  we  went  forth  to  explore  the  fountain  of 
Elisha — the  “  Diamond  of  the  Desert,”  as  it  was  called  in  the 
days  of  the  Crusaders.  W e  found  it  distant  between  two  and 

*  Luke  xix.  1 — 11. 


FOUNTAIN  OF  ELISHA. 


321 


three  hundred  yards,  bubbling-  up  from  the  bed  of  the  rock 
over  which  it  flowed.  It  had  the  appearance  of  boiling 
water,  and  flowed  with  great  force  and  rapidity.  It  is  a  seclu¬ 
ded  nook,  and  overhung  by  broad-leaved  fig-trees  and  nab- 
bukhs :  and  here,  too,  we  found  specimens  of  what  I  believe 
were  accounted  the  “Apples  of  Sodom,”  none  of  which  I  had, 
however,  seen  at  any  spot  nearer  to  the  Dead  Sea.  They 
were  as  yellow  as  gold  ;  and  varying  in  size,  from  that  of  a 
hazel  nut  to  that  of  a  very  large  walnut.  They  grew  upon  a 
harsh  prickly  stem.  It  was  a  solemn  thought,  that  the  now 
sweet  fountain  of  Elisha,  once  “  naught,”  had  been  the  subject 
of  miraculous  working.  The  prophet  had  been  there :  the 
power  of  God  had  been  there  too,  working  through  him. 
“  The  men  of  the  city  (Jericho)  said  unto  Elisha,  Behold,  I 
pray  thee,  the  situation  of  this  city  is  pleasant,  as  my  lord 
seeth  ;  but  the  water  is  naught,  and  the  ground  barren.  And 
he  said,  Bring  me  a  new  cruse,  and  put  salt  therein.  And 
they  brought  it  to  him.  And  he  went  forth  unto  the  spring 
of  the  waters,  and  cast  the  salt  in  there,  and  said,  Thus  saith 
the  Lord,  I  have  healed  these  waters :  there  shall  not  be  from 
thence  any  more  death  or  barren  land.  So  the  waters  were 
healed  unto  this  day,  according  to  the  saying  of  Elisha,  which 
he  spake.”*  The  waters  were  indeed  healed — they  were 
sweet  and  delicious.  The  power  of  the  miracle  has  not 
passed  away. 

At  twelve  o’clock  we  renewed  our  march  towards  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  by  the  ancient  road  trodden  by  the  feet  of  our  adorable 
Redeemer.  I  thought  of  the  parable  of  the  good  Samaritan : 
— “A  certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  and 
fell  among  thieves,”  &c.  ;  and  certainly  it  still  retains  the  wild 
aspect  of  a  scene  of  rapine  and  murder.  It  is  solitary,  seclu¬ 
ded  and  savage.  Indeed,  even  in  the  present  day,  it  is  an  ex¬ 
ceedingly  dangerous  road  ;  and  the  traveller  who  omits  to  take 
with  him  a  sufficient,  vigilant,  and  well-armed  escort,  must 
expect  to  be  plundered,  even  at  noonday.  While  we  were  on 
our  way  to  Jerusalem,  a  small  body  of  Arabs  came  down  upon 

*  2  Kings  ii.  19 — 22. 


322 


ROAD  BETWEEN  JERUSALEM  AND  JERICHO. 


us,  whose  appearance  and  manner  left  no  doubt  that  had  our 
party  been  weaker  than  theirs,  we  should  have  been  sufferers. 
They  were  a  half-famished,  hungry-looking  set,  and  clad  in  a 
few  rags,  with  their  matchlock  guns  in  their  hands.  They 
seemed  at  first  to  show  us  their  teeth — but  dared  not  do  more 
than  that,  as  we  could  have  overpowered  them  at  the  onset. 
A  few  words  were  exchanged  as  we  passed  on  steadily,  just 
keeping  watch  that  they  made  no  reinforcement  from  the  sur¬ 
rounding  mountains. 

The  route  from  Jericho  to  Jerusalem  is,  in  many  places 
fatiguingly  steep  and  difficult ;  and  so  shut  in  by  mountain 
heights  and  savage  crags,  that  scarcely  any  breeze  can  reach 
the  traveller ;  and  when,  as  in  our  case,  the  vertical  sun  sends 
down  his  beams  into  the  narrow  passes,  the  heat  reflected  from 
the  chalky  sides  of  the  ravine,  scorches  like  a  furnace.  I  felt 
the  effect  of  it  on  the  skin  of  my  face  for  a  long  while  after  ; 
but  we  experienced  no  real  or  lasting  injury.  It  was  by  far 
the  most  trying  part  of  our  expedition,  and  occupied  six  hours. 
By  the  mercy  of  God  we  reached  Jerusalem  in  perfect  safety 
crossing  the  Mount  of  Olives  in  our  way,  and  re-entering  the 
city  by  the  gate  of  St.  Stephen. 

I  dwell  upon  the  recollection  of  this  expedition  with  min 
gled  feelings  of  delight  and  gratitude.  Not  one  danger  over¬ 
took  us:  not  one  untoward  circumstance  happened  ;  and  there 
is  deposited  in  my  mind,  a  vivid  picture — bright — beautiful, 
solemn — that  can  never  pass  away.  Would  that  I  could  com¬ 
municate  it,  with  all  its  wonderful  reality,  to  the  mind  of  my 
attentive  reader — but  I  cannot.  I  have  done  what  I  could. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


JERUSALEM,  SYCHAR,  NAZARETH,  &c. 


My  last  Sabbath  in  Jerusalem — Preparations  for  Departure— Departure  from  Jerusa¬ 
lem — Gibeon — Beeri  (Beeroth) — Bethel — Shiloh — Bir  el  Lebyan — Mountains  of 
Ephraim — The  Ground  bought  by  Jacob,  of  the  Sons  of  Hamor— Jacob’s  Well- 
Mounts  Ebal  and  Gerizim— Joseph’s  Tomb— Sychar  (Nablous)—  Bir  Sharath — Sa¬ 
maria — Sebaste — Road  to  Nazareth — Embarrassment — Jenin — Plain  of  Esdraelon 
— Nazareth — Ancient  Well  of  Nazareth — Mount  Tabor — Approach  to  the  Sea  of 
Galilee — Tiberias — The  Sea  of  Galilee — Cana  of  Galilee — Scripture  Imagery — Ad¬ 
venture-Journey  towards  Mount  Carmel— Amusing  Misapprehension — River  Ki- 
shon — Mount  Carmel — Latin  Convent  on  Mount  Carmel — Schools  of  the  Prophets 
— Acre — Journey  towards  Tyre  and  Sidon — Scorpions — Cape  Blanco— Scalar  Ty- 
riorum — Ras-el-Ayun — Tyre— Sarepta — Sidon — Naby  Younes — Albanian  Soldiers, 
etc. — Arrival  at  Beyrout — Beyrout — Lebanon — The  Tribes  of  Lebanon — Route  to 
Baalbec — The  Bekaa — Nabey  Noah — Nabey  Sheeth — Baalbec — Deir  el  Akhma* 
— Ayun  el  Teene — Ascent  of  Lebanon — The  Cedars  of  Lebanon — Return  to  Bey¬ 
rout — Christian  Education  in  Syria— Ancient  Church  of  Syria. 

\ 

Jerusalem  had  become  my  home.  It  was  with  unspeak¬ 
able  delight  that  I  again  traversed  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and 
beheld  the  Holy  City  lying  before  me,  bathed  in  the  rich 
tintings  of  the  evening  sun.  When  shall  the  Sun  of  Right¬ 
eousness  again  rise  upon  her,  with  healing  in  His  wings  ? 
We  passed  slowly  down  the  descent — pausing  a  moment  at 
Gethsemane,  and  marking  the  spot,  not  far  distant,  where 
they  stoned  the  first  Christian  martyr — Stephen,  calling  upon 
God,  and  saying,  u  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit.”  The  blood 
of  the  martyr  still  cries  from  the  ground.  Jerusalem  cannot 
now  hear  the  cry — her  ears  are  closed.  There  is  a  day 
coming  in  which  it  will  break  forth  upon  her  awakened 
sense  with  a  voice  of  thunder. 

It  was  a  time  of  delightful  repose  which  we  passed,  imme¬ 
diately  after  our  return,  within  the  cool  walls  of  our  convent- 
home,  awaiting  the  dawn  of  the  coming  Sabbath. 

- —  My  last  Sabbath  in  Jerusalem  !  There  was  a  melan- 


324 


MY  LAST  SABBATH  IN  JERUSALEM. 


clioly  feeling  mingled  in  the  joy  with  which  I  welcomed  the 
light  of  that  holy  day.  Earthly  Sabbaths  must  have  an  end, 
but  I  looked  forward  in  humble  and  hopeful  anticipation  to 
the  eternal  u  Sabbath-keeping”  of  the  people  of  God.*  I  was 
permitted  once  more  to  worship  on  Mount  Zion.  It  was  a 
season  of  serenity  and  peace.  The  evening  was  spent,  as 
usual,  with  the  good  Bishop  and  his  family,  in  religious  exer 
cises  and  profitable  conversation.  The  Bishop  solemnly  laid 
it  in  charge  upon  us  that  we  should  “  pray  for  the  peace  of 
Jerusalem,”  and  reminded  us  that  they  shall  prosper  who 
love  her.f  Oh  that  the  church  may  be  thoroughly  awakened 
to  the  claims  of  Jerusalem,  and  that  her  heart  may  ere  long 

yearn  over  the  scattered  thousands  of  Israel !  I  thank  God 

•/ 

that  our  own  national  church  has  made  her  stand.  I  look  to 
Jerusalem  now,  with  many  a  bright  hope  glowing  in  my 
heart.  Does  any  man  say — u  Where  is  the  Diocese — where 
is  the  Church  in  Jerusalem  ?”  I  turn  to  the  word  of  pro¬ 
phecy:  I  hang  upon  the  word  of  promise:  I  dwell  on  the 
immutable  sanctity  of  the  covenant ;  and  there  I  find  a  fitting 
answer — the  answer,  not  for  the  men  of  this  world,  but  for 
the  people  of  God.  When  James  was  consecrated  first  Bish¬ 
op  of  the  church  in  Jerusalem,  doubtless  there  were  men 
ready  to  say — “  Where  is  the  Diocese — where  is  the  Church'?” 
The  blindness  of  heart  which  then  existed,  has  been,  perpetu¬ 
ated — is  still  manifest  while  we  bid  men  regard  the  spiritual 
effort  of  our  beloved  church  in  Jerusalem,  and  say — “  This 

/  V 

hath  God  wrought.” - 

As  the  day  of  our  departure  from  the  Holy  City  was  draw¬ 
ing  near,  I  availed  myself  of  every  opportunity  for  visiting 
again  and  again  the  sacred  localities  of  which  I  have  already 
given  a  faint  description  ;  sometimes  prolonging  my  stay 
among  them  till  the  setting  sun  gave  notice  of  the  closing  of 
the  city  gates.  Between  five  and  six  o’clock,  in  the  morning 
of  the  fifth  of  July,  I  made  my  last  visit  to  the  Garden  of 

*  Heb.  iv.  9.  There  remaineth  therefore  a  rest  — a  sabbath¬ 

keeping)  to  the  people  of  God. 

t  Psalm  cxxii.  6. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEPARTURE. 


325 


Gethsemane.  It  was  a  lovely,  quiet  scene  and  season.  I 
seated  myself  under  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  ancient  olive 
trees,  overlooking  the  spot  of  our  Lord’s  betrayal — the  terra 
damnata :  there  I  read  and  meditated  upon  the  narratives  of 
the  four  evangelists,  and  gave  myself  up  to  the  deep  contem¬ 
plation  of  them.  Though  it  was  a  matter  of  unspeakable  de¬ 
light,  thus,  on  the  very  spot,  to  dwell  on  the  marvellous 
record,  yet  I  think  the  recollection  is  still  more  delightful — • 
more  beneficial.  As  I  have  already  taken  occasion  to  ob¬ 
serve — it  is  the  clinging  to  visible  things — to  memorials  and 
to  symbols,  that  has  served  to  make  the  churches  of  the  west 
and  of  the  east  so  feeble  in  genuine  faith,  and  so  superstitious. 
Faith  lives  and  expands  while  gazing  on  the  invisible — on 
those  things  which  the  Spirit  of  God  reveals,  and  which  are 
only  spiritually  discerned.  Yet  it  is  a  delightful  exercise — 
to  walk  where  the  Saviour  walked — to  read  and  meditate  and 
worship  where  he  agonized  and  prayed ;  and  it  is  not  with 
out  its  use. 

July  6th. — This  was  the  day  of  our  departure  from  Jeru¬ 
salem.  It  was  a  heavy  day  to  me  ;  for  l  felt  as  if  about  to 
quit  one  of  the  dearest  spots  of  the  earth.  The  three  weeks 
of  my  sojourn  had  glided  away  all  too  rapidly.  The  morn¬ 
ing  was  employed  in  packing  and  making  ready  our  move¬ 
ables.  which  had  accompanied  us  in  all  the  previous  journeys. 
We  had  intended  to  start  at  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  in 
the  hope  of  reaching  Beyteen  (Bethel)  by  sunset;  but  it  was 
quite  impossible  to  get  the  Muleteers  to  move  with  any  thing 
like  punctuality.  No  wheeled  carriages  of  any  kind  are  to 
be  seen  in  Palestine  ;  and  if  they  were  in  existence,  it  would 
be  utterly  impossible  to  make  way  with  them  upon  the  stony 
and  precipitous  roads.  All  baggage  is  borne  upon  the  backs 
of  mules  and  asses,  in  the  most  primitive  manner. 

By  about  five  o’clock  we  were  loaded  and  ready  to  start. 
We  left  a  suitable  gratuity  for  our  friends  of  the  Latin  con¬ 
vent,  and  found  our  horses  awaiting  us  at  the  convent  gates. 
We  quitted  the  city  by  the  Bethlehem  gate,  and  took  a  last 
view  of  the  heights  of  Mount  Zion  and  the  valley  of  Hinnom, 

28 


326 


DEPARTURE  FROM  JERUSALEM. 


as  we  awaited  the  arrival  of  our  cavalcade,  without  the  city 
walls.  As  we  passed  out  of  the  city,  we  saw  several  lepers 
sitting  by  themselves,  not  far  from  the  gate,  soliciting  charity 
from  those  who  passed  in  and  out.  They  presented  a  sad 
picture  of  suffering,  wretchedness,  and  destitution. 

Our  party  was  soon  assembled.  The  cavalcade  consisted 
of  four  mules  and  two  asses,  with  the  tents  and  baggage ; 
each  animal  attended  by  a  driver,  one  of  whom  was  a  Nubian 
slave — tall,  slim,  and  as  black  as  polished  ebony.  Then 
came  the  servants,  who  like  ourselves  were  very  fairly 
mounted  on  compact  little  palfreys  supplied  to  us  at  Jerusa¬ 
lem.  We  took  a  northwesterly  direction ;  and  for  rather 
more  than  half  an  hour,  Jerusalem  and  its  surrounding 
heights  were  still  in  sight.  Again  and  again  I  paused  and 
looked  back  as  for  a  last  glance.  At  length,  between  us  and 
the  city  there  lay  a  wide  spreading  track  covered  with  vine¬ 
yards  and  olive  plantations,  which  gave  an  air  of  freshness 
and  fertility  to  the  otherwise  bare  and  parched  appearance  of 
the  soil.  Another  step — and  I  felt  that  Jerusalem  would  be 
no  longer  visible.  I  gazed  then — for  the  last  time  indeed 
upon  the  scene  of  my  Saviour’s  humiliation  and  triumph, 
The  last  object  I  saw,  was  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  the  scene 
of  the  ascension,  Henceforth,  Jerusalem  will  be  to  me  a 
lovely — a  stately  vision,  ever  present  to  my  mind  and  to  my 
heart.  Mountains  and  valleys  and  oceans  are  now  between 
us ;  but  the  mental  portraiture  can  never  be  obliterated. 

Our  route  was  dull,  rugged,  and  dreary.  Several  points 
of  great  interest,  however,  presented  themselves  as  we  pro¬ 
ceeded  :  such  as  Naby-Samuel — about  two  hours  distant  from 
Jerusalem,  occupying  the  summit  of  a  terraced  hill.  For 
many  centuries  this  spot  has  been  deemed  the  ancient  Ramah, 
the  birth  and  burial  place  of  the  prophet  Samuel — the  spot 
from  which  he  often  surveyed  and  deplored  the  coming  deso¬ 
lations  of  Judah,  and  contemplated  the  humbling  apostacy  of 
her  king.  Not  far  distant  and  upon  an  elevation  of  nearly 
equal  height,  was  Bet-hanina  (probably  the  abode  of  Hannah 
the  mother  of  Samuel),  and  upon  another,  was  Gibeah  of 


GIBEON  BEERI  (BEEROTH). 


321 


Saul  and  Micmash.  In  front  of  us,  and  somewhat  to  the 
right,  was  El  Geeb — the  ancient  Gibeon,  which  “was  a  great 

city,  and  one  of  the  royal  cities . greater  than  Ai,  and 

all  the  men  thereof  were  mighty.”  The  hill  on  which  these 
remains  now  stand  is  remarkably  round,  and  terraced  in  such 
a  manner,  that  from  a  distance  it  has  the  appearance  of  being 
ascendible  by  a  regularly  formed  flight  of  stairs  on  all  sides. 

- “  Sun,  stand  thou  still  upon  Gibeon,  and  thou  moon,  in 

the  valley  of  Ajalon.”  It  was  the  scene  of  a  marvellous 
transaction,  and  the  place  of  a  terrible  slaughter,  when  the 
kings  of  the  Amorites  had  gathered  together  against  it,  and 
when  Joshua  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  “  discomfited  them 
before  Israel,  and  slew  them  with  a  great  slaughter  at  Gibeon, 
and  chased  them  along  the  way  that  goeth  up  to  Beth-horon, 
and  smote  them  to  Azekah  and  unto  Makkedah.”*  Many 
and  interesting  are  the  Scripture  incidents  of  which  Gibeon 
was  the  scene. f  We  did  not  ascend  its  heights,  being  desi¬ 
rous  of  reaching  Beeri  as  early  as  possible  after  sunset.  It 
was  somewhat  to  have  fixed  our  eyes  upon  so  celebrated  a 
locality. 

A  continued  ride  of  about  four  hours  brought  us  to  Beeri, 
the  ancient  Beeroth,  where  we  resolved  on  pitching  our  tents 
for  the  night.  Close  by  the  spot  selected  was  a  delicious 
spring,  the  sound  of  which  fell  pleasantly  on  our  ears  after 
the  heat  and  wearisomeness  of  our  journey,  as  it  gushed  forth 
and  deposited  its  streams  in  a  rude  stone  trough,  from  whence 
it  was  turned  .into  a  small  rill  which  wound  among  the  gar¬ 
dens  of  the  village.  The  village  itself  is  poor  and  insignifi¬ 
cant  :  although  when  we  arrived  in  the  darkness  of  the 
evening,  the  sound  of  dogs,  loud  and  numerous,  gave  the  idea 
of  magnitude.  The  stars  came  forth  with  great  lustre  and 
beauty  while  we  pitched  our  tents,  surrounding  us  with  their 
gentle  influence  :  and  it  was  a  delightful  thought  that  in  this 
very  spot,  probably,  it  was  first  discovered  by  Joseph  and 
Mary,  that  the  Child  Jesus  was  not  of  their  company  as  they 
were  returning  from  Jerusalem,  by  this  route,  to  Nazareth. 

*  Joshua  x.  10,  &e.  t  See  2  Sam.  ii.  12 ;  xx.  8 ;  1  Kings  ii.  5 ;  iii.  6. 


328  GIBEON — BEERI  (BEEROTH.) 

There  seems  to  be  a  very  ancient  tradition  in  favor  of  this  ; 
and  so  far  as  1  could  learn,  no  other  ancient  well*  was  to  be 
found  within  the  distance  mentioned  in  Scripture,  on  the  high 
road  to  Nazareth  ;  and  it  is  certain,  that  then,  as  now,  journeys 
were  much  regulated  as  to  their  distance  by  wells.  There  is 
nothing  peculiar,  or  even  picturesque  about  the  spot ;  but 
it  was  pleasant  to  repose  there,  and  to  drink  of  the  fountain 
which  probably  had  quenched  the  thirst  of  the  Holy  Family 
and  their  companions.  Two  other  matters  recorded  in  Scrip¬ 
ture  are  also  associated  with  this  neighborhood  ;  the  first  of 
these  is,  that  u  Jotham  ran  away,  and  fled,  and  went  to  Beer, 
and  dwelt  there,  for  fear  of  Abimelech  his  brother. ”f  The 
other  is,  that  somewhere  thereabouts  was  the  abode  of  Debo¬ 
rah,  the  prophetess,  who  is  said  to  have  11  dwelt  under  the 
palm  tree  of  Deborah,  between  Ramah  and  Bethel.”;}; 

Soon  after  sunrise  on  the  following  morning,  we  were  on 
horseback.  The  women  of  Beeri  were  early  at  the  fountain  ; 
some  filling  their  earthern  pitchers,  and  others  washing  clothes 
in  the  stream.  It  was  a  pleasant  picture,  especially  as  it  pre¬ 
sented  to  us  the  people  pursuing  the  customs  which  had  been 
continued  for  ages.  Our  first  intention  after  quitting  Beeri, 
was  to  visit  the  remains  of  Bethel,  now  called  Beyteen.  For 
this  purpose  we  made  a  detour  from  the  main  path,  turning 
ofF,  in  an  easterly  direction  at  Wadey  Geeb,  about  two  hours 
distant  from  the  fountain.  The  remains  of  Bethel  are  still 
extensive,  and  present  a  sufficiently  distinct  idea  of  its  site 
plan  and  formation,  even  in  the  details  of  its  streets.  This 
was  the  ancient  Luz  ;  at  least  antiquarians  and  most  modern 
travellers  are  agreed  in  deeming  it  such.  If  so,  then  it  was 
the  scene  of  Jacob’s  remarkable  and  blessed  vision,  as  he  went 
from  Beersheba  towards  Haran,  which  constrained  him  to  say, 
“  How  dreadful  is  this  place !  It  is  none  other  but  the  house 

of  God,  and  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven . And  he  called 

the  name  of  that  place  Beth-el.”||  Beyteen  (or  Beth -el)  is 

*  This  fountain,  or  well,  was  doubtless  a  distinguished  one :  inasmuch 
as  the  village  takes  its  name  from  it. 

t  Judges  ix.  21.  t  Judges  iv.  5.  II  Genesis  xxviii.  JO — Id. 


BETHEL - SHILOH. 


329 


now  scarcely  inhabited.  We  found  one  family,  who  offered 
us  goat’s  milk  ;  and  two  or  three  straggling  Arabs  among  the 
ruins.  It  is  a  scene  of  perfect  desolation.  Beth-el  has  indeed 
“  come  to  naught.”*  We  found  reapers  engaged  among  the 
scanty  crops  of  the  valleys  around. 

We  find  frequent  mention  of  Bethel  in  the  sacred  writings. 
When  the  ten  tribes  revolted  during  the  reign  of  Rehoboam, 
it  was  included  in  the  new  kingdom  of  Israel.  It  was  here 
that  Jeroboam  set  up  one  of  his  golden  calves.  On  this  ac¬ 
count  it  was  called  by  the  prophet  Hosea,  Beth-aven — not  the 
house  of  God  as  Jacob  had  named  it,  but  the  house  of  Idols ,  or 
of  vanity  It  was  seized  upon  by  Abijah,  king  of  Judah,  out 
of  the  hands  of  Jeroboam,  but  was  soon  restored  to  the  kings 
of  Israel. f  On  the  first  division  of  the  land  by  Joshua,  it  was 
allotted  to  the  tribe  of  Benjamin. 

Having  rejoined  our  party  in  the  main  path,  we  proceeded 
till  about  eleven  o’clock,  through  a  country  in  some  places 
bare,  sterile,  and  desolate,  yet  with  many  remaining  traces  of 
ancient  cultivation  and  fruitfulness.  Thin  crops  of  grain  were 
here  and  there  ripened  for  harvest,  in  the  sweeping  valleys. 
A  detour,  which  cost  us  full  three  hours,  gave  an  opportunity 
of  visiting  the  remains  of  Shiloh,  now  called  Siloun.  Its 
geographical  position  is  clearly  laid  down  in  Scripture,  where 
it  is  said  to  be  a  “  place  which  is  on  the  side  of  Beth-el,  on 
the  east  side  of  the  highway  that  goeth  up  from  Bethel  to 
Shechem,  and  on  the  south  of  Lebonah.”| 

With  this,  Siloun  agrees  exactly  ;  and  I  am  not  aware  of 
any  other  remains  that  can  dispute  with  it  the  claim  to  the  de¬ 
sired  identity.  Beside  this,  its  present  name  contains  in  it  the 
elements  of  the  original — as  Professor  Robinson  observes, 
“  The  full  form  of  the  Hebrew  name  was  apparently  Shilon , 
as  we  find  it  in  the  Gentile  noun  Shilonite ;  and  Josephus 
writes  it  also,  Silo  and  Siloun Few,  if  any,  of  the  remains 
of  ancient  Shiloh  are  to  be  found  amidst  the  ruins  yet  visible 
on  the  height.  Indeed  there  is  scarcely  any  thing  worthy  of 
attention,  except  a  kind  of  tower  or  chapel  of  about  twenty 
*  Amos  v.  5.  t  2  Chron.  xiii.  19.  t  Judges  xxi.  19. 

28* 


330 


SHILOH — BIR-EL-LEBYAN. 


feet  square,  and  some  ruinous  tombs  eastward.  The  former 
is  overshadowed  by  a  splendid  and  venerable  nabbukh  tree, 
under  which  we  tethered  our  horses  and  rested  ourselves. 
We  found  many  tessalse — the  remains  of  ancient  pavements. 

Shiloh  is  an  interesting  spot  on  many  accounts.  It  was 
there  that  the  tabernacle  of  the  congregation  was  set  up,  when 
the  children  of  Israel  were  assembled  together  after  the  land 
had  been  subdued  before  them  ;  and  there  also  it  was  that  the 
last  division  of  the  territory  was  made  among  the  tribes  of 
Israel.*  From  the  time  of  Joshua,  down  to  the  close,  of  Eli’s 
ministiy,  the  ark  and  the  tabernacle  continued  there  ;  and 
there,  too,  the  child  Samuel  was  consecrated  to  God  in  the 
service  of  the  sanctuary. f  When  among  the  ruins  of  Shiloh, 
I  did  not  call  to  mind  the  solemn  words  of  Jehovah  by  his 
servant  Jeremiah — ■“  Go  ye  now  unto  my  place  which  was  in 
Shiloh,  where  I  set  my  name  at  the  first,  and  see  what  I  did 
to  it  for  the  wickedness  of  my  people  Israel" %  But  now,  while 
recalling  the  scene,  and  pondering  the  subject  of  Israel’s  un¬ 
faithfulness,  they  speak  the  stern  language  of  awful  admoni¬ 
tion.  Viewed  in  the  light  of  Scripture,  Shiloh  is  at  once  a 
hoary  memorial  of  the  baseness  of  man,  and  of  the  righteous 
indignation  of  God.  National  sin  brought  down  national 
judgments  upon  God’s  most  favored  people.  History  records 
the  fact — inspiration  confirms,  and  weeping  Judea  now  echoes 
it.  Is  national  sin  no  longer  hateful  in  the  eyes  of  a  holy 
God?  Does  his  vengeance  slumber?  Should  we  not  be 
heedful  ? 

Quitting  Shiloh,  we  took  a  circuitous  route  through  wind¬ 
ing  valleys  and  mountain  passes  clothed  with  tamarisk  and 
other  graceful  shrubs,  till  we  arrived  at  a  ruinous  structure 
called  Khan-el-Lebyan,  near  the  ancient  fountain — Bir-el- 
Lebyan,  around  which  a  party  of  Syrian  shepherds  were 
gathered  with  ‘heir  numerous  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats.  The 
assemblage  about  a  well  in  the  east,  always  presents  a  charm¬ 
ing  and  interesting  picture  of  that  mode  of  early  pastoral  life, 
with  which  the  page  of  scripture  makes  us  so  familiar.  We 

*  Joshua  xviii.  1—10.  t  1  Sam.  i.—iv.  j  Jeremiah  vii.  12. 


MOUNTAINS  OF  EPHRAIM. 


331 


paused  but  for  a  moment,  and  rejoined  our  escort  who  were 
awaiting  us  for  the  midday  rest,  under  the  shade  of  a  thick 
olive  plantation  on  the  height  of  a  mountain  brow,  from 
which  we  commanded  an  extensive  plain,  encompassed  by 
gracefully  swelling  elevations,  partially  cultivated  at  the  base 
and  every  where  exhibiting  traces  of  ancient  terraces,  where 
the  vine  and  olive  had  once  abounded,  in  the  fruitful  days  of 
Palestine.  It  was  two  o’clock  when  we  reached  this  spot; 
and  the  sun  had  for  several  hours  been  triumphing  in  his 
strength.  The  hour  of  repose  was  welcome  indeed,  and  so 
was  the  homely  meal,  provided  for  us  at  our  usual  gypsy-fire. 
It  was  not  until  five  o’clock  that  we  yielded  to  the  necessity 
for  pressing  onwards — repose  was  so  sweet. 

We  had  quitted  the  territory  of  Benjamin,  and  were  now 
upon  the  mountains  of  Ephraim,  amidst  small  quiet  villages 
and  ancient  sites,  presenting  themselves  here  and  there  at 
almost  every  turn  of  the  road,  which  must  have  been  fre¬ 
quently  traversed  by  our  adorable  Redeemer  when  passing 
from  Jerusalem  to  Galilee.  It  was  the  main,  direct — perhaps 
the  only  road.  A  wide  and  partially  cultivated  plain  ex¬ 
tended  itself,  shut  in  by  the  heights  of  Ephraim,  across  which 
we  pursued  our  way.  It  is  called  Wadey  el  Luban.  At  the 
north-west  end  of  it,  and  occupying  a  site  of  considerable 
elevation,  is  the  village  of  Luban,  believed  to  be  the  ancient 
Lebonah.  Finding  it  quite  impossible  to  reach  Nablous 
during  the  evening  march,  vve  pitched  the  tents  upon  a  thresh¬ 
ing  floor,  near  a  small  agricultural  village  called  Hawarah, 
where  we  were  soon  surrounded  by  a  large  party  of  Syrian 
shepherds  and  villagers,  from  whom  we  obtained  a  good  sup¬ 
ply  of  delicious  milk  and  cheese,  and  excellent  water,  for  a 
trifling  remuneration.  We  had  been  on  horseback  for  about 
eleven  hours  altogether,  and  were  heartily  glad  when  our 
couches  were  prepared  for  our  reception. 

Next  morning  by  six  o’clock,  we  resumed  our  journey 
towards  Nablous.  Even  at  that  early  hour,  the  sun  was 
intensely  hot,  and  began  to  be  oppressive.  For  about  an 
hour  and  a  half,  our  way  was  along  a  delightful  and  enclosed 


332 


MOUNTS  EBAL  AND  GERIZIM. 


valley,  in  a  very  fair  state  of  cultivation,  considering  the 
miserable  condition  of  the  poor  Syrian  population.  The 
chief  productions  are  millet,  the  cotton  plant,  and  both  Indian 
and  common  wheat.  From  this  valley  we  were  soon  ushered 
into  an  extensive  plain  much  cultivated  in  like  manner,  and 
which  could  not  be  less  than  eight  or  ten  miles  northward, 
and  in  breadth  about  three  or  four,  bounded  by  finely-lined 
mountains  scattered  over  with  villages.  On  entering  the 
plain,  we  made  our  way  close  under  the  western  ridge,  from 
whence  we  commanded  its  whole  extent.  How  fertile — how 
abundantly  prolific  must  it  have  been  in  the  days  of  Israel’s 
prosperity.  It  is  a  memorable  spot — the  parcel  of  ground 
which  Jacob  bought  u  of  the  hands  of  the  children  of  Hamor,”* 
and  “  gave  to  his  son  Joseph  — the  scene  of  frequent  assem¬ 
blage  for  the  tribes  of  Israel.  The  plain  is  well  watered  by 
streams  flowing  from  the  u  full-fountained”  city  of  Nablous 
and  is  so  exceedingly  verdant  and  fruitful,  that  (as  Maundrell 
has  strikingly  observed)  u  it  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  stand 
ing  token  of  the  tender  affection  of  that  good  patriarch  to  the 
best  of  sons.” 

Westward  of  this  notable  plain,  stand  the  mountains  Ebal 
and  Gerizim — prominent  and  picturesque  features  of  this 
most  interesting  landscape. 

Bearing  away  towards  the  west,  the  plain  narrows  into  a 
valley  lying  between  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  and  leading  towards 
Nablous,  which  has  usually  been  deemed  the  Sheckem  of  the 
Old,  and  the  Sychar  of  the  New  Testament ;  though  there  is 
some  ground  for  believing  that  a  small  village,  called  Aschar , 
lying  in  a  northerly  direction,  and  not  so  distant  from  the 
plain  as  Nablous,  may  be  the  true  Sychar. 

At  the  widest  part  of  the  opening  of  this  valley,  there  -is  a 
low  pile  of  rude  masonry,  surrounded  by  a  large  number 
of  loose  stones  of  considerable  size,  and  remains  of  walls  and 
their  foundations.  It  is  an  object  which  many  a  traveller 
might  overlook,  were  he  not  prepared  for  it  by  previous 
announcement.  An  ancient — a  very  ancient  well  is  con- 

*  Genesis  xxxiii.  18,  19. 


Jacob’s  well. 


333 


cealed  by  these  remains,  the  descent  to  which  is  made  through 
a  narrow  mouth  in  the  stonework  above,  usually  covered  with 
a  massive  fragment  of  stone.  The  stone  was  too  heavy  for 
us  to  remove  without  more  aid  than  we  could  command.  I 
should  gladly  have  drunk  of  this  water — but,  in  addition  to 
the  fact  of  its  mouth  being  closed — I  learnt  that  the  u  well 
is  deep,”  and  I  had  u  nothing  to  draw  with.” 

The  most  august  traveller  whose  feet  ever  pressed  the  soil 
of  the  Holy  Land,  once  rested  on  the  brink  of  this  noted 
well.  That  traveller  was  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  The  well  is 
Jacob’s  well.  St.  John  tells  as  that  Jesus,  on  a  certain  occa¬ 
sion,  u  left  Judea,  and  departed  again  into  Galilee  and  that 
u  he  must  needs  go  through  Samaria.”  This  well  is  in  the 
high  road — the  road  over  which  the  generations  of  past  ages 
have  been  wont  to  travel  from  Judea  to  Galilee.  The  Evan¬ 
gelist  continues — “  Then  cometh  he  to  a  city  of  Samaria, 
which  is  called  Sychar,  near  to  the  parcel  of  ground  that 
Jacob  gave  to  his  son  Joseph.  Now  Jacob’s  well  was  there. 
Jesus,  therefore,  being  wearied  with  his  journey,  sat  thus  on 
the  well ;  and  it  was  about  the  sixth  hour.  There  cometh  a 
woman  of  Samaria  to  draw  water  :  Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Give 
me  to  drink.  (For  his  disciples  were  gone  away  unto  the 
city  to  buy  meat.)  Then  saith  the  woman  of  Samaria  unto 
him,  How  is  it  that  thou,  being  a  Jew,  askest  drink  of  me 
which  am  a  woman  of  Samaria?  for  the  Jews  have  no  deal¬ 
ings  with  the  Samaritans.  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto 
her,  If  thou  knewest  the  gift  of  God,  and  who  it  is  that  saith 
to  thee,  Give  me  to  drink,  thou  wouldst  have  asked  of  him, 
and  he  would  have  given  thee  Jiving  water.  The  woman 
saith  unto  him,  Sir,  thou  hast  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the 
well  is  deep  ;  from  whence  then  hast  thou  that  living  water  ? 
Art  thou  greater  than  our  father  Jacob,  which  gave  us  the  well, 
and  drank  thereof  himself,  and  his  children,  and  his  cattle? 
Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  her,  Whosoever  drinketh  of 
this  water  shall  thirst  again  ;  but  whosoever  drinketh  of  the 
water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  never  thirst ;  but  the  water 


334 


Jacob’s  well. 

that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water  spring¬ 
ing  up  into  everlasting  life.” 

It  was  indeed  a  charming  event  in  one’s  life,  to  stand  on  the 
brink  of  that  well — to  hear,  as  it  were,  the  voice  of  the 
sublime  preacher,  and  to  have  the  precious  truth  which  he 
taught  giving  spiritual  life  to  the  believing  soul. 

But — is  this  the  only  well  near  Sychar,  in  the  way  through 
Samaria  to  Galilee?  Are  there  not  others  which  may  equally 
claim  to  be  the  'well  of  Jacob?  These  questions  may  naturally 
enough  suggest  themselves,  when  after  the  lapse  of  so  many 
centuries,  we  endeavor  to  make  out  a  satisfactory  identity. 
Certainly  there  are  other  wells — but  not  in  the  direct  road. 
There  is  one,  and  a  considerable  one,  too,  lying  a  mile  or  so 
in  a  more  north-easterly  direction  ;  but  the  well  in  question 
seems  to  be  the  only  one  that  really  answers  the  description 
given  by  St.  John,  who  speaks  of  it  as  being  u  deep.”  Mr. 
Calhoun — a  recent  European  traveller,  ascertained  its  depth 
at  seventy-five  feet,  with  about  twelve  feet  of  water ;  while 
the  other  wells  are  so  shallow,  that  the  water  may  be  easily 
reached  with  the  hand.  I  stooped  down  and  drank  with  perfect 
ease,  at  that  which  I  have  just  mentioned.  Besides  all  this — 
the  identity  of  the  well  of  Jacob  is  not  sought  for  through  any 
Popish  tradition,  but  through  a  Mahommedan  one,  which  ap¬ 
pears  never  to  have  been  disputed ;  and  it  seems  time  out  of 
mind,  to  have  been  called  by  the  Arabs  Bit  Yacoob  (the  well  of 
Jacob),  and  it  is  by  that  name  they  now  universally  designate 
it.  On  account  of  its  great  depth  and  the  consequent  coolness 
of  the  water  at  all  seasons,  it  has  no  doubt  been  highly 
esteemed  from  the  beginning ;  and  this  may  be  alleged  as  a 
reason  why  the  woman  of  Samaria  should  come  so  far  from 
Sychar  to  draw  water,  when  other  wells  were  near  at  hand, 
and  while  the  vale  of  Sychar  abounded  with  rich  streams. 

The  divine  doctrine  propounded  by  the  voice  of  an  incar¬ 
nate  God  at  the  brink  of  that  well,  has  never  passed  away. 
It  is  recorded  by  the  finger  of  the  Spirit;  and  many  a  thirsty 
soul  has  tasted  its  life-giving  reality.  The  weary  traveller  is 
gone.  The  woman  of  Samaria  no  longer  lingers  on  the  spot ; 


Joseph’s  tomb — mounts  ebal  and  gerizim.  335 

but  the  generations  of  eighteen  centuries  have  heard  the 
heavenly  teaching,  and  it  is  now  as  much  as  ever  the  precious 
truth  of  the  imperishable  Gospel — “  Whosoever  drinkdh  of  the 
water  that  I  shall  give  him ,  shall  never  thirst;  but  the  water  that 
I  shall  give  him ,  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up 
into  everlasting  life.”  Oh  may  our  hearts  respond — 

- “  Sir,  give  me  this  water,  that  I  thirst  not.”* 

At  a  distance  of  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  north¬ 
ward  of  Jacob’s  well,  stands  a  “whited  sepulchre.”  It  con¬ 
sists  of  four  walls,  open  at  the  top,  and  has  a  wide  doorway 
opening  towards  the  north.  It  is  a  place  of  frequent  resort 
with  the  Jews  ;  and  many  are  the  Hebrew  inscriptions  in  the 
interior.  On  the  left  is  a  kind  of  covered  sarcophagus,  over 
which  a  wild  vine  clusters  luxuriantly.  Towards  the  right  is 
a  raised  piece  of  rude  masonry,  like  the  common  coverings  of 
Arab  graves,  evidently  marking  the  final  resting-place  of 
some  one.  The  whole  structure  is  of  great  age.  Undisputed 
tradition  claims  it  as  the  tomb  of  Joseph.  That  the  remains 
of  this  servant  of  God  lie  somewhere  thereabouts,  there  is  no 
doubt :  for  we  read  that  “  the  bones  of  Joseph,  which  the 
children  of  Israel  brought  up  out  of  Egypt,  buried  they  in 
Shechem ,  in  a  parcel  of  ground  which  Jacob  bought  of  the  sons  of 
Hamor ,  the  father  of  Shechem,  for  an  hundred  pieces  of  silver; 
and  it  became  the  inheritance  of  the  children  of  Joseph.”!  I 
am  very  much  inclined  to  believe  the  tradition  which  points 
to  this  ancient  sepulchre.  If  it  be  well  founded,  how  venera¬ 
ble  does  the  spot  become  to  those  who  love  to  dwell  upon  the 
sacred  narrative  of  God’s  wonderful  dealings  towards  the  once 
enslaved  descendants  of  the  “  faithful  Abraham.” 

The  road  towards  Nablous  is  a  valley  of  considerable 
breadth — lying,  as  I  have  said,  between  Mount  Ebal  and 
Mount  Gerizim,  and  running  nearly  due  east  and  west.  The 
former  of  these  mountains,  which  was  the  mount  of  cursing , 
rises  on  the  north  side  of  the  valley,  and  is  nearly  barren 
above,  but  skirted  below  in  some  parts  by  olive  groves.  Its 


*  John  iv.  15. 


t  Joshua  xxiv.  32. 


336 


MOUNTS  EBAL  AND  GERIZIM. 


height  is  estimated  at  from  about  eight  hundred  to  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  plain.  The  latter,  which  was  the  mount  of 
blessing ,  rises  on  the  south  of  the  valley.  It  shows  a  few 
traces  of  cultivation,  and  is  of  equal  height  with  Mount  Ebal. 
Both  these  noted  mountains  are  exceedingly  bold  and  striking, 
when  viewed  only  as  parts  of  a  fine  landscape.  Nablous  is 
situate  due  west  between  them ;  and  is  approached  through  a 
fine  grove  of  olives  of  great  age  and  magnitude,  with  here 
and  there  springs  of  water,  round  which,  shepherds  and  their 
flocks  were  gathered  as  we  passed.  The  whole  of  the  valley 
is  very  beautiful  and  quiet ;  while  the  massive  sides  of  Ebal 
and  Gerizim  give  to  it  an  air  of  charming  seclusion.  On  the 
heights  of  Mount  Gerizim  once  stood,  as  is  generally  believed, 
a  Samaritan  temple,  to  the  religious  exercises  connected  with 
which  the  woman  of  Samaria  most  probably  referred,  when, 
at  the  well  of  Jacob,  she  said  to  her  illustrious  teacher — “  Our 
fathers  woshipped  in  this  moutain.”  An  annual  procession  is 
made  to  this  spot  by  the  small  residue  of  the  Samaritan  people, 
who  still  occupy  their  ancient  city.  The  summit  of  Gerizim 
is  now  occupied  by  a  structure  of  modern  character.  It  is  the 
tomb  of  an  Arab  saint. 

But  what  gives  an  abiding  and  peculiar  interest  to  Mounts 
Ebal  and  Gerizim  is,  after  all,  the  fact,  that  on  their  sides 
were  gathered  the  tribes  of  Israel,  to  hear  and  respond  to  the 
blessings  and  curses  of  Jehovah ;  while  the  Ark  of  the  Cove¬ 
nant,  surrounded  by  its  attendant  Priests  and  Levites,  was 
placed  in  the  lovely  valley  between.  How  awfully  solemn 
must  have  been  the  assemblage  and  the  occasion.  Israel  was 
then  victorious  in  the  land  of  promise :  and  there  it  was  that 
their  whole  destiny  was  open  before  them,  as  it  was  to  result 

from  either  their  obedience  or  the  contrary.  Alas _ with 

what  a  melancholy  interest  does  the  subsequent  history  of 
God’s  ancient  people  invest  the  transactions  of  that  day.  On 
Gerizim,  stood  the  tribes  of  Simeon,  Levi,  Judah,  Issachar, 
Joseph,  and  Benjamin,  “to  bless  the  people.”  On  Ebal,  stood 
those  of  Reuben,  Gad,  Asher,  Zebulun,  Dan,  and  Naphtali, 
u  for  a  cursing.”  Soon  the  expectant  silence  of  the  vast  con* 


837 


STCHAR  (NABLOUS). 

course  was  broken  by  the  loud  voice  of  the  Levites,  sounding 
upwards  from  the  valley,  uttering  in  the  name  of  the  God  of 
Israel,  the  curses  attendant  on  a  disobedience  to  the  divine  will 
which  had  been  revealed  from  heaven  as  a  law,  and  written 
plainly  on  large  stones,  set  up  on  Mount  Ebal ;  and  at  every 
pause,  the  tribes  on  Mount  Ebal  gave  forth  their  solemn 
u  Amen.”  While  in  like  manner  the  blessings  of  obedience 
were  heard  and  responded  to  by  the  tribes  stationed  on 
Gerizim.  The  curse  has  been  terribly  fulfilled  upon  apostate 
Israel ,  and  of  this,  every  Jew  of  every  subsequent  age  of  their 
history  has  been  a  living  memorial — not  to  be  denied  or  over¬ 
looked.  Perhaps  there  are  not  two  more  awfully  interesting 
chapters  in  the  Bible,  than  those  which  record  these  trans¬ 
actions  on  Mounts  Ebal  and  Gerizim.  and  in  the  vale  of 
Sychar.* 

Sychar  is  nearly  concealed  by  the  thick  olive  groves  of 
the  valley,  till  you  are  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  its 
walls,  when  it  breaks  upon  the  view — a  charming  object, 
with  its  graceful  minarets  embosomed  in  the  richest  foliage 
which  this  abundantly  watered  valley  so  richly  cherishes. 
Almonds,  pomegranates,  vines,  figs,  mulberries,  apples  and 
orange  trees  grow  with  the  greatest  luxuriance  ;  while  ‘he 
cultivation  of  melons,  cucumbers,  and  such  like  garden  pro¬ 
duce  affords  an  abundant  supply  for  general  consumption, 
which  is  carried  as  far  as  Jerusalem.  The  melons  of  Sychar 
are  much  esteemed.  The  garden  hedges  are  for  the  most 
part  formed  of  the  prickly-pear  (which  is  of  the  cactus  family), 
and  in  many  parts  are  interlaced  with  the  spreading  branches 
of  luxuriant  vines. 

Sychar  should  be  always  viewed  from  without.  The 
charm  is  lost  when  once  you  set  foot  within  its  poor  and  mi¬ 
serable  streets  and  offensive  bazaars.  We  rode  through  it 
but  made  no  stay;  only  taking  a  leisurely  survey  as  we 
passed,  of  the  pursuits  and  occupations  of  the  people.  Some 
were  seated  in  groups,  amidst  piles  of  melons,  cucumbers, 
and  other  fruits  ;  some  were  engaged  in  cutting  and  preparing 

*  Deut  ytv”  TYviii.  &c. ;  and  see  also  Joshua  viii.  30 — 35. 

29 


338 


SYCHAR  (NABLOUS). 


for  sale  large  supplies  of  tobacco  ;  others  were  carrying  to  and 
from  the  fountains,  water-bottles  made  of  the  untanned  skins 
of  sheep  and  goats,  while  veiled  women  were  shuffling  about 
in  their  yellow  morocco  boots,  thrust  into  loose  slippers, 
which  gave  them  an  awkward  gait.  In  many  of  the  houses 
and  bazaars,  we  noticed  an  extensive  manufacture  of  cotton 
in  various  stages  ;  some  were  carding — others  were  spinning, 
and  not  a  few  weaving.  There  was  a  general  appearance  of 
liveliness  and  activity  amidst  the  population,  though  in  most 
streets  were  to  be  found  large  parties  of  those  lovers  of  ease, 
whose  day  is  spent  reclining  in  the  shade,  and  inhaling  the 
fumes  of  Latakia.  Sychar  (or  Shechem)  was  one  of  the  an¬ 
cient  cities  of  refuge ;  and  far  more  interesting  on  account  of 
its  scriptural  associations  than  by  reason  of  anything  in  its 
present  character  and  appearance. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  while  our  blessed  Redeemer 
was  honorably  received  in  this  city  of  the  Samaritans,  he  and 
his  divine  teaching  and  mighty  working  were  despised  at 
Capernaum  and  the  once  distinguished  cities  about  the  Sea 
of  Galilee  ;  and  that  while  the  latter  are  now  in  ruins — nay, 
their  sites  almost  untraceable — the  former  is  still  a  prosperous 
town,  so  far  as  prosperity  can  be  said  to  exist  in  this  sadly 
changed  country.  One  of  its  striking  features  is  the  abun¬ 
dance  of  fountains  both  within  and  around  it,  imparting  cool¬ 
ness,  freshness,  and  luxuriance  to  every  part. 

We  quitted  the  city  by  a  gate  opening  towards  the  north¬ 
west,  which  brought  us  into  the  midst  of  most  delicious 
groves  and  gardens,  and  then  again  into  the  main  valley, 
with  the  continuation  of  Ebal  and  Gerizim  still  on  either 
side,  and  with  a  rapid  narrow  stream  coursing  its  way  with  a 
sweet  and  refreshing  ripple.  For  several  miles  the  valley  is 
still  richly  cultivated  ;  and  abounds  with  fine  spreading  fig, 
olive,  and  pomegranate  trees,  and  climbing  vines,  embracing 
with  their  graceful  tendrils  the  bold  trunks  of  noble  and 
spreading  trees 

Quitting  the  vale  of  Sychar,  we  journeyed  towards  Sa¬ 
maria,  The  way  is  often  steep  and  rugged.  It  is  doubtless 


SAMARIA - SEBASTE. 


339 


tne  ancient  path,  over  which  buried  generations  have  been 
wont  to  travel.  It  is  worn  deep  in  the  face  of  the  rock.  After 
proceeding  in  a  north-westerly  direction  for  nearly  two  hours, 
we  reached  a  delicious  fountain  called  Bir  Sharath,  sur¬ 
rounded  and  overhung  by  luxuriant  and  wide-spreading  fig 
trees,  the  fruit  of  which  was  still  unripe.  They  were  of  the 
purple  kind  which  comes  latest.  We  had  eaten  the  earlier — 
the  “  first  ripe  figs”  abundantly  in  Jerusalem  ;  but  found  none 
of  them  hereabouts.  Round  the  fountain  was  gathered  a 
party  of  Syrian  shepherds,  with  large  flocks  of  sheep  and 
long  flap-eared  goats.  A  few  other  peasants  were  engaged  in 
conducting  the  streams  of  the  fountain  for  the  purpose  of  ir¬ 
rigation.  We  pitched  our  tents  in  this  delightful  shade,  and 
were  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  sweet  voice  of  the  running  waters. 
At  half-past  four  we  were  on  the  march  again  ;  and,  in  little 
more  than  an  hour,  arrived  at  Sebaste — the  ancient  Samaria 
— the  royal  city  of  the  kings  of  Israel. 

Samaria  was  visible  for  full  half  an  hour  before  we  reached 
it ;  and  perhaps  there  is  not  a  more  lovely  scene  in  Palestine 
than  that  which  presents  itself,  when  its  commanding  position 
first  meets  the  eye.  I  cannot  well  imagine  a  more  noble  site 
for  a  royal  city.  Israel  was  indeed  magnificently  enthroned 
there.  It  is  a  bold  and  stately  mountain,  belted  about  with 
guardian  hills,  as  if  to  afford  a  natural  fortification  to  the  royal 
habitation.  The  mountain  itself  is  of  an  oval  form  and  richly 
clothed,  almost  to  its  summit,  with  stately  olive  groves.  We 
quitted  the  heights  from  which  we  first  gazed  upon  Samaria, 
by  a  winding  path,  through  thick  plantations  which  led  us  to 
green  and  fertile  plains,  extending  around  the  spreading  base 
of  the  mountain.  Surely  these  must  have  been  among  “the 
fat  valleys  of  them  that  are  overcome  with  wine.”* 

The  prophecy  concerning  Samaria  is  most  distinct,  and  its 
fulfilment  has  been  exact.  I  wish  an  infidel  could  have  stood 
with  me  and  compared  the  present  state  of  Samaria — even  in 
minute  particulars,  with  the  prophecy  of  Micah  which  I  read 
on  the  spot.f  “  The  word  of  the  Lord  that  came  to  Micah 

*  Isaiah  xxviii.  1,  f  Micah  i.  1 — 6. 


340 


SAMARIA - SEBAS1  . 


the  Morasthite  in  the  days  of  Jothnm,  Ahaz,  and  Hezekiah. 
kings  of  Judah,  which  he  saw  concerning  Samaria  and  Jeru¬ 
salem.  Hear,  all  the  people  ;  hearken,  O  earth,  and  all  that 
therein  is  ;  and  let  the  Lord  God  be  witness  against  you,  the 
Lord  from  His  holy  temple.  For  behold,  the  Lord  cometh 
forth  out  of  His  place,  and  will  come  down  and  tread  upon 
the  high  places  of  the  earth.  And  the  mountains  shall  he 
molten  under  Him,  and  the  valleys  shall  be  cleft  as  wax  be 
fore  the  fire,  and  as  the  waters  that  are  poured  down  a  steep 
place.  For  the  transgression  of  Jacob  is  all  this,  and  for  the 
sins  of  the  house  of  Israel.  What  is  the  transgression  of 
Jacob  ?  Is  it  not  Samaria  ?  And  what  are  the  high  places 
of  Judah?  Are  they  not  Jerusalem?  Therefore  I  will  make 
Samaria  as  an  heap  of  the  field ,  and  as  plantings  of  a  vineyard  ; 
and  I  trill  pour  down  the  stones  thereof  into  the  valley ,  and  I  will 
discover  the  foundations  thereof  ”  Though  Israel’s  monarchs 
there  swayed  the  sceptre — though  there  Herod  reigned  and 
revelled — though  pomp  and  splendor  and  the  glory  of  this 
world  there  shone  and  dazzled  the  thousands  of  Israel — yet, 
Samaria  is  a  desolation.  The  sceptres  are  broken — the  revel 
is  hushed — the  splendor  has  faded — Samaria  is  as  an  heap  of 
the  field,  and  as  the  plantings  of  a  vineyard  ;  her  stones  have 
been  literally  poured  down  into  the  valley — her  foundations 
have  been  indeed  discovered — and  there  they  now  lie  ;  while 
from  every  heap  and  from  every  fragment  there  goes  forth  as 
it  were  a  testimony,  which  cannot  be  silenced,  to  the  righteous 
severity  of  an  angry  God. 

We  ascended  the  heights  for  the  purpose  of  exploring  the 
remains;  and  in  our  wav  met  many  of  the  Samaritan  women 
coming  down  with  their  water  jars,  gracefully  borne  upon 
their  heads,  to  a  fountain  which  flows  below.  They  are 
coarse  and  masculine,  and  contrast  strongly  with  the  men, 
who  both  in  countenance  and  figure  are  extremely  handsome. 
Their  complexion  is  florid  and  clear,  and  slightly  bronzed  by 
their  native  sun. 

The  ascent  is  by  a  steep  narrow  pass  which  leads  up  to  a 
small  village — poor  and  insignificant;  and  to  the  left,  on  the 


SAMARIA. 


341 


eastern  brow  of  the  hill,  are  the  bo  d  and  prominent  ruins  of 
a  Greek  church,  said  to  have  been  built  over  the  bones  of 
John  the  Baptist — the  victim  of  the  heartless  Herod  and  Hero- 
dias  his  adulterous  paramour.  A  small  enclosed  part  of  the 
church  is  now  used  as  a  mosque ;  the  door  of  which  was 
closed  against  us  as  soon  as  we  arrived.  On  either  side  of  the 
ascent,  immense  masses  of  stone  are  piled  and  huddled  to¬ 
gether,  and  have  the  appearance  of  ancient  foundations.  On 
the  summit  there  is  a  considerable  extent  of  table-land  thickly 
planted  with  fig  and  olive  trees,  among  which  are  to  be  found 
a  great  many  shafts  of  Corinthian  columns  deprived  of  their 
capitals — some  of  them  erect,  and  others  thrown  down  and 
partly  buried  in  the  soil.  No  one  can  survey  these  ruins 
without  being  sensible  of  the  splendor  with  which  this  re¬ 
markable  spot  was  once  graced  ;  all  which  is  increased  by 
glancing  down  into  the  valleys — particularly  on  the  north¬ 
east,  south  and  west,  where  the  remains  of  bold  and  stately 
colonnades  are  still  visible,  amidst  the  heaps  of  piled  up 
stones.  Such  are  the  remnants  of  Samaria,  “  the  crown  of 
pride.”  Was  it  here  that  Ahab  built  his  house  in  honor  of 
Baal  1  And  here  that  Jezebel  bore  her  cruel  sway  ?  And 
here,  too,  that  those  men  of  God — Elijah  and  Elisha,  wrought 
wonders  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ?  Even  so. 
And  what  do  we  now  find  instead  ?  A  few  Syrian  boors — 
a  poor  rude  cultivation — spiritual  dearth ;  the  light  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  not  merely  dismissed,  but  extinguished  ;  a  monument 
— a  memorial — the  traces  of  Jehovah’s  presence  in  wrath  and 
retribution. 

The  surrounding  scenery,  as  beheld  from  the  heights,  is 
very  ch  rming ;  and  it  was  beautifully  garnished  by  the  de¬ 
clining  sun,  as  we  gazed  upon  the  grassy  and  olive-clotned 
valleys  and  “mountains  of  Samaria.”  We  did  not  fail  to 
notice  the  terraced  sides  of  the  hills,  on  which  the  vine  and 
the  olive  once  grew  in  cultivated  profusion  (compared  with 
which  the  present  is  but  barrenness),  when  the  Ephraimites 
thence  traded  with  Egypt,  in  oil# — the  rich  produce  of  the 


*  Hosea,  xii.  1. 

29* 


342 


HOAD  TO  NAZARETH. 


olive  tree.  Shall  the  poor  and  scanty  cultivation  which  now 
marks  the  desolation  of  the  land,  continue  ?  Is  there  no 
promise  on  which  to  ground  a  hope  of  better  things  1  Oh 
yes :  Israel — the  beloved — the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  shall 
return.  He  who  foretold  the  desolation,  and  who  brought  it, 
hath  given  promise — hath  said  to  banished  Israel,  11 1  have 
loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love ;  therefore  with  loving¬ 
kindness  have  I  drawn  thee.  Again  I  will  build  thee,  and 
thou  shalt  be  built,  O  virgin  of  Israel :  thou  shalt  again  be 
adorned  with  thy  tabrets,  and  shalt  go  forth  in  the  dances  of 
them  that  make  merry.  Thou  shalt  yet  plant  vines  upon  the 
mountains  of  Samaria :  the  planters  shall  plant ,  and  eat  them  as 
common  things.'1'1* 

We  quitted  the  ruins  of  Samaria  by  a  steep  and  difficult 
path,  among  olive  and  tobacco  gardens,  in  a  northerly  direc¬ 
tion  ;  and  on  reaching  the  plain,  were  soon  at  the  foot  of  a 
bold  range  of  hills  enclosing  the  valley  of  Samaria,  over 
which  we  were  to  pass  in  our  way  to  Nazareth.  After  paus¬ 
ing  for  a  brief  space,  we  commenced  the  ascent,  having  sent 
on  the  baggage  mules  while  we  stayed  at  Samaria;  and,  as 
we  hoped,  with  exact  directions  as  to  the  place  where  they 
were  to  await  our  arrival  for  the  evening  halting  time.  From 
the  highest  point  of  the  mountains,  and  while  traversing  a 
winding  path  looking  westward,  a  noble  landscape  opened  be¬ 
fore  us.  Immediately  below,  there  stretched  out  a  rich  undu¬ 
lating  plain,  enlivened  by  villages  and  olive  plantations, 
through  which  ran  a  beautiful  glassy  river,  probably  the  brook 
Kanah. t  Westward,  was  to  be  seen  the  line  of  the  Mediter¬ 
ranean,  with  part  of  the  plain  of  Sharon.  On  the  north-east 
were  the  distant  mountains  of  Galilee.  Oh!  it  was  a  stir¬ 
ring  scene.  Every  hair-breadth  of  the  far-stretching  territory 
was  connected  with  the  history  and  the  hopes  of  God’s  ancient 
people,  and  interwoven,  in  all  our  associations,  with  the  name 
and  mission  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Had  he  not  often  gazed 
on  this  very  scene,  illumined  and  enriched  by  the  beams  of 

+  Jeremiah  xxxi.  5.  t  Joshua  xvi.  8;  xvii.  9. 


ROO  TO  NAZARETH - EMBARRASSMENT. 


S43 


the  same  sun  which  now  shed  its  evening  lustre  on  every 
object? 

By  a  descending  path,  north-eastward,  we  reached  two  vil¬ 
lages,  the  principal  of  which  our  guides  called  Birkah;  but  I 
rather  suppose  it  was  Gabath — perhaps  the  ancient  Gibbethon , 
where  Baasha  slew  Nadab  the  son  of  Jeroboam.*  The  ap¬ 
proach  to  it  lies  through  a  thickly  wooded  plain  ;  and  as  we 
entered,  flocks  innumerable — of  sheep,  goats,  and  neat  cattle, 
were  crowding  round  the  wells,  from  which  the  shepherds 
were  busily  drawing  up  water  and  pouring  it  from  their 
leathern  buckets  into  ancient  stone  troughs.  We  received 
many  kindly  salutations  as  we  passed,  and  many  a  “ Marahab 
bah ”  (you  are  welcome) ;  the  ordinary  expression  of  courtesy 
with  which  the  traveller  is  greeted. 

A  little  beyond  this  village,  we  reached  the  place  where  it 
was  understood  that  the  baggage  mules  should  await  us,  and 
where  we  hoped  to  find  the  tents  pitched  and  all  things  ready. 
But,  alas  for  the  weary  travellers — they  had  not  arrived  ;  and 
we  could  not  but  fear  there  had  been  some  misapprehension. 
Every  thing  we  possessed,  besides  the  clothes  on  our  backs, 
was  under  the  care  of  our  vagrant  Muleteers.  The  sun  had 
set ;  the  evening  shades  had  already  gathered  around  us;  and 
our  only  prospect  was  that  of  passing  the  night  on  the  bare 
earth,  without  tents  and  without  food,  after  our  fatiguing  ex¬ 
pedition.  We  shouted  with  all  our  might ;  and  Hassenein 
exerted  his  lungs  till  the  valleys  rang  again.  But  there  was 
no  reply.  We  paused  and  listened,  but  all  in  vain.  We  had 
just  resolved  on  turning  off  towards  a  spot  distant  about  an 
hour,  where  Hassenein  thought  it  possible  the  Muleteers  might 
have  gone.  Had  we  fulfilled  the  intention,  we  should  have 
last  them  indeed.  Just  as  we  were  about  to  move,  I  thought 
I  heard  a  distant  sound  of  the  shrill  bells  attached  to  the 
mules’  necks.  Our  hope  was  all  alive.  Hassenein  shouted 
again — sputtered  a  little  vehement  Arabic,  and  fired  a  pistol 
the  echo  of  which  reverberated  and  died  away  on  the  evening 
breeze.  Again  there  was  a  silence,  and  we  listened  breath 

*  1  Kings  xv.  27 ;  xvi.  15. 


844 


JENIN — PLAIN  OF  ESDRAELON. 


lessly.  A  respondent  shout  was  heard  on  a  height  far  aoove 
us,  followed  by  a  shot.  The  sound  of  the  bells  was  now  dis¬ 
tinctly  audible.  The  voices  of  our  Muleteers  neared  upon 
us.  We  fired  another  shot  to  show  them  exactly  our  position, 
and  soon  we  were  pitching*  our  tents  in  a  retired  spot  over¬ 
hung  with  the  full  foliage  of  luxuriant  fig  trees,  and  near  an 
abundant  fountain.  Close  at  hand  was  a  village  called  Fendi- 
omir.  As  we  sat  at  the  tent  door,  fire-flies  were  playing  their 
sparkling  gambols,  and  thousands  of  crickets  singing  their 
night-song. 

At  an  early  hour  the  next  morning,  we  were  again  in  mo¬ 
tion,  in  hope  of  reaching  Jenin  by  the  usual  time  of  noontide 
rest.  Our  path  lay  for  some  time  along  a  rich  valley,  which 
at  length  spread  out  into  a  magnificent  plain  of  fine  arable  soil, 
but  for  the  most  part  overgrown  with  tall  thistles  of  a  rich 
deep  purple  color.  It  was  surrounded  by  hills  of  various 
magnitudes,  and  of  graceful  forms.  Four  hours  brought  us 
within  sight  of  Jenin,  where  a  shady  olive  grove  invited  us 
to  halt  for  the  midday  rest.  Jenin  maybe  looked  upon  as  the 
frontier  town  between  Samaria  and  Galilee.  It  stands  on  the 
western  declivity  of  a  hill,  surrounded  by  hedges  of  the  prick¬ 
ly  pear,  and  is  beautifully  picturesque  without;  but  within,  it 
is  poor  and  squalid,  though  traces  are  yet  to  be  found  of  its 
former  importance.  Some  travellers  have  supposed  it  to  be 
the  ancient  Ginoea ,  referred  to  by  Josephus  ;  and  the  supposi¬ 
tion  is  not  without  foundation.  In  the  midst  of  it  is  a  magnifi¬ 
cent  fountain  of  delicious  water,  which  forms  an  extensive 
pool,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  large  and  motley  band  of  tra¬ 
vellers  refreshing  themselves  and  their  beasts  of  burthen.  On 
reaching  Jenin,  we  entered  upon  the  territory  of  the  half 
tribe  of  Manasseh  ;  and,  winding  our  way  through  the  poor 
miserable  streets,  were  ushered  into  the  noble  and  indescriba¬ 
bly  beautiful  plain  of  Esdraelon — the  ancient  valley  of  Jez - 
reel — the  plain  of  Megiddo.  It  is  a  vast  and  almost  unbroken 
surface.  On  the  east,  it  stretches  off  towards  the  Jordan  ;  on 
the  west,  it  nearly  reaches  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  is  there  bounded  by  a  range  of  small  hills  which  sepa- 


THE  PLAIN  OF  ESDRAELON. 


345 


rates  it  from  the  plains  of  Acre.  The  mountains  of  Nazareth 
hound  it  on  the  north,  and  those  of  Samaria  on  the  south. 
Noble  and  distinguished  mountains  look  down  upon  it  from 
their  ancient  thrones — Carmel,  Hermon,  and  Gilboa ;  while 
towards  the  north-east  stands  Mount  Tabor — the  monarch  of 
the  scene,  on  which  the  eye  fixes  itself  with  delight  and  won¬ 
der.  Maundrell  estimates  the  extent  of  the  plain  at  about 
thirty  miles  from  east  to  west,  and  twenty  from  north  to  south. 
A  river  rises  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Tabor — it  is  the  Kishon — * 
that  ancient  river,  which  intersects  the  plain,  and  courses  off 
westward  to  the  sea.  The  stream  in  itself  is  inconsiderable, 
but  is  sometimes  swelled  by  tributary  waters — the  efflux  of 
mountain  torrents,  and  the  produce  of  heavy  rains.  The 
ancient  fertility  of  this  noble  plain  must  have  been  amazing; 
and  it  still,  no  doubt,  possesses  its  former  capabilities.  But  a 
poor  and  partial  cultivation — not  far  removed  from  sterility,  is 
all  that  meets  the  eye  of  the  traveller,  who  seeks  in  vain  for 
the  waving  crop  and  the  rejoicing  husbandman.  Is  there  not 
a  cause  ?  Alas,  the  breath  of  divine  indignation  has  gone 
forth  over  its  surface ;  and  not  till  the  thousands  of  rescued 
Israel  rejoice  in  their  restored  inheritance,  shall  its  wonted 
luxuriance  return. 

No  one,  in  the  least  degree  acquainted  with  the  fate  and 
fortunes  of  empires,  could  gaze  unmoved  upon  the  plain  of 
Esdraelon.  How  many  destinies  have  been  sealed  with 
the  blood  of  thousands  upon  its  surface  ;  how  many  hopes 
crushed  ;  how  many  an  ambitious  dream  realized  !  It  is  well 
designated  “  the  battle  field  of  nations” — for  such  it  has  been 
from  the  day  when  Sisera  there  marshalled  his  bannered  host ; 
and  from  the  time  when  the  good  Josiah  fell,*  and  there  went 
forth  u  the  mourning  of  Hadadrimmon  in  the  valley  of  Me- 
giddon.”|  It  was  on  this  plain  that  the  twofold  subjugation 
of  Judea  was  accomplished.  And  in  more  modern  times, 
there  is  scarcely  a  warlike  nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
whose  banners  have  not  waved  under  the  shadows  of  Tabor 
and  of  Hermon.  There  is  another  conflict  yet  to  come — a 
*  2  Chron.  xxxv.  22 — 25.  +  Zech.  xii.  11 


346 


EMBARRASSMENT - NAZARETH. 


conflict  that  shall  be  deadly,  final,  glorious — between  the 
hosts  of  darkness  and  the  children  of  light — between  Anti¬ 
christ  and  the  Lamb  !  and  does  not  the  word  of  prophecy  ar¬ 
rest  the  thoughtful  traveller,  and  bid  him  look  forth  upon  the 
plain  of  Megiddo  1 * 

On  quitting  Jenin,  we  sent  on  the  baggage  mules  by  the 
ordinary  route  towards  Nazareth,  while  we  ourselves  took  a 
more  circuitous  one,  by  way  of  Zerin  ( Jezreel ),  for  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  visiting  the  remains  of  that  city,  and  also  Solam  ( Shu - 
nem ),  Nain  and  Endor.  By  some  unaccountable  mistake, 
we  missed  the  proper  path,  and  were  able  to  visit  only  Zerin 
before  the  evening  closed.  We  were  then  too  far  from  Naza¬ 
reth  to  reach  it  at  any  reasonable  hour  of  the  night.  We 
had  moreover  missed  our  mules ;  and  when  the  darkness 
closed  upon  us,  we  had  no  hope  but  of  passing  the  night 
under  the  open  canopy  of  heaven.  I  had  for  several  hours 
been  suffering  severe  pain,  and  was  scarcely  able  to  proceed 
— yet  the  possibility  of  finding  the  mules  was  worth  an  effort. 
We  pushed  on  till  we  reached  a  considerable  village  on  a 
steep  elevation,  where  we  made  inquiries  about  the  various 
roads  to  Nazareth  ;  and  while  perplexed  with  conflicting  in 
telligence,  the  far  distant  sound  of  the  mules’  bells  greeted  us. 
Some  of  the  Arabs  insisted  that  they  were  camel-bells,  and 
urged  us  to  stay  in  the  village,  offering  to  supply  us  with 
milk  and  other  slight  refreshments.  But,  we  had  no  tents  ; 
and  the  prospect  of  spending  the  night  amidst  the  animalcule 
of  an  Arab  hut  was  any  thing  but  inviting.  We  no  longer 
heard  the  sound  of  bells ;  but  the  distant  barking  of  dogs 
encouraged  a  hope  that  the  muleteers  had  arrived  at  some 
village  within  reach.  We  discharged  fire-arms  and  shouted  ; 
but  there  was  no  reply.  After  a  brief  consultation  we  re¬ 
mounted  and  struck  across  the  plain  in  the  direction  from 
which  the  dogs’  voices  seemed  to  come.  Providentially,  we 
soon  found  a  horse-path ;  and  after  half  an  hour’s  riding  saw 
light  in  the  distance.  We  gave  another  shout,  and  it  brought 
a  reply.  It  was  our  party.  They  were  just  pitching  the 

*  Rev.  xvi.  14 — 16. 


NAZARETH. 


347 


tents  on  the  outside  of  a  poor  village,  amidst  extensive  thresh¬ 
ing  floors.  It  was  no  small  relief  to  find  ourselves  once  more 
housed  within  our  linen  walls. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  we  continued  our  way 
across  the  plain,  with  Mount  Tabor  towering  on  the  right; 
and  in  about  two  hours  reached  the  commencement  of  the 
ascent  towards  the  mountains  which  encircle  Nazareth.  On 
our  left,  was  Hasloh  (Chisloth  Tabor) ;  on  the  right,  the 
mount  of  precipitation.  By  an  extremely  fatiguing  pass, 
which  occupied  about  another  hour,  we  reached  the  bare  and 
rocky  heights,  from  which  we  gazed  on  the  spot  where  the 
early  manhood  of  Jesus  was  passed,  in  subjection  to  an  earthly 
parentage.  It  was  Nazareth.  It  is  quite  surrounded  by  a 
rocky  girdle ;  and  occupies  the  lowest  slope  of  the  west  side 
of  a  hill.  There  is  an  appearance  of  chalky  whiteness  and 
sterility  all  around.  The  few  figs  and  olives  which  are  to  be 
seen,  are  poor  and  stunted.  Compared,  however,  with  many 
other  Syrian  towns,  Nazareth  is  still  attractive,  independently 
of  the  scriptural  associations  connected  with  it.  It  lay  bathed 
in  the  morning  light  as  we  approached  ;  and  at  a  distance, 
wore  the  aspect  of  extreme  repose.  How  busy  was  the  ima¬ 
gination,  as  the  eye  glanced  eagerly  from  side  to  side.  De¬ 
scending  the  heights,  and  making  our  way  along  a  winding 
valley,  we  soon  reached  the  city,  exchanging  salutations  with 
some  Syrian  Christians  on  horseback,  who  paused  and  bid  us 
welcome. 

u  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?” — was  a  pro¬ 
verbial  phrase  of  ancient  origin.  The  extreme  seclusion  of 
its  site  once  made  Nazareth  the  resort  of  the  bad  and  doubt¬ 
ful  characters  of  Galilee.  I  fancy  it  is  not  much  better  now, 
if  any  judgment  is  to  be  formed  from  the  physiognomy  of  the 
idle  and  wretched  looking  population. 

We  rode  direct  to  the  Latin  Convent,  and  were  civilly  re¬ 
ceived,  in  a  dirty  cell  set  apart  for  pilgrims.  Two  rude  beds 
were  allotted  to  us,  and  a  suitable  place  to  stow  away  our 
baggage.  I  was  unwell,  and  ill  at  ease.  Nazareth  seemed 
to  be  of  all  places  the  most  outrageously  clamorous.  Every 


348 


NAZARETH. 


hour  of  the  day  and  night  was  broken  by  incessant  yelling; 
scores  of  children  were  all  crying  and  screaming  at  once,  and 
at  the  top  of  their  voices ;  donkeys  were  braying,  cocks  crow¬ 
ing,  and  camels  grunting.  I  could  have  wept  for  the  nervous 
feeling  which  all  this  helped  to  increase.  I  kept  in  my  cell 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  day  ;  and  only  emerged  for  the 
sake  of  visiting  the  more  prominent  objects  of  monkish  inte¬ 
rest — such  as  the  alleged  scene  of  the  annunciation,  the  work¬ 
shop  of  Joseph,  &c.  for  which  I  had  no  great  appetency,  for 
reasons  already  stated  in  reference  to  those  of  Bethlehem  and 
Jerusalem. 

The  greater  part  of  the  population  of  Nazareth  is  profes¬ 
sedly  Christian  ;  but  it  is  the  deformed  and  lifeless  Chris¬ 
tianity  of  the  Roman  and  Greek  churches.  I  was  present  at 
vespers,  in  the  church  of  the  Latin  Convent,  but  only  a  few 
stragglers  attended  as  worshippers ;  and  though  it  was  the 
Lord’s  day — yet,  the  presence  of  the  Lord  seemed  not  to  be 
regarded  in  Nazareth.  It  was  so  in  the  days  of  his  sojourn 
upon  earth.  He  did  not  many  miracles  there;  his  country¬ 
men  had  no  faith  in  him — they  were  offended  at  the  mean¬ 
ness  of  his  origin — •“  Is  not  this  the  carpenter’s  son?”* 

But  notwithstanding  all  that  was  wearisome  in  my  short 
stay  at  Nazareth,  one  delightful  train  of  thought  kept  posses¬ 
sion  of  my  mind — that  there  the  human  nature  of  our  adorable 
Redeemer  expanded  to  its  full  maturity  ;  and  that  there  in 
humble  obscurity  he  trained  his  soul  for  those  achievements 
which  have  shed  light  and  lustre  and  hope  upon  a  blighted 
world.  How  delightful  was  it  to  gaze  upon  every  rocky 
height,  and  upon  every  silent  valley  around,  and  to  be  assured 
that  there  He  walked  and  meditated  and  prayed,  and  yearned 
over  the  degraded  posterity  of  the  fallen  Adam. 

After  a  restless  night  we  rose  early,  and  by  seven  o’clock 
were  mounted  for  the  purpose  of  making  an  excursion  to 
Tiberias  and  the  lake  of  Gennesareth,  intending  to  return  to 
Nazareth  by  way  of  Cana  of  Galilee.  Some  little  fuss  was 
made  about  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  marauding  par* 

*  Matt.  xiii.  54 — 58. 


ANCIENT  WELL  OF  NAZARETH - MOUNT  TABOR.  349 

ties  of  Bedaween  who  infest  the  surrounding  country,  and  we 
were  therefore  strongly  urged  to  take  an  additional  escort 
from  Nazareth.  This  addition  resolved  itself  into  a  sinole 
Arab,  armed  with  his  long  spear,  but  incapable  of  affording 
much  protection  in  the  face  of  actual  danger  Fie  was,  how' 
ever,  a  Nazarene — and  perhaps  well  acquainted  with  such 
enemies  as  we  might  have  to  encounter.  He  was  a  disagree¬ 
able  lazy  fellow,  and  made  no  way  towards  securing  our  good 
opinion  ;  but  we  had  no  means  of  choosing  for  ourselves. 

On  quitting  Nazareth,  we  found  on  its  outskirts  a  very  an¬ 
cient  well,  round  which,  as  is  the  custom  of  the  east,  a  num¬ 
ber  of  persons  were  gathered.  The  well  is  the  place  of  gen¬ 
eral  resort.  Some  of  the  women,  in  their  picturesque  attire, 
were  filling  their  earthen  vessels — others  returning  with  their 
pitchers  borne  upon  their  heads.  This  in  all  probability  was 
the  ancient  well  of  Nazareth,  where  Mary  and  the  “holy 
child  Jesus”  no  doubt  often  lingered,  and  from  which  he 
drank  many  a  refreshing  draught. 

We  made  our  way  direct  towards  Mount  Tabor,  which  we 
purposed  ascending  from  the  small  village  of  Dabourieh , 
which  lies  west  of  the  mount,  and  close  to  its  base.  This 
village  is  about  two  hours  distant  from  Nazareth,  by  an  ex¬ 
tremely  beautiful  path,  shut  in  by  thickly  studded  oak-forests. 
Another  hour  brought  us  to  the  summit  of  Tabor.  On  reach¬ 
ing  Dabourieh,  we  paused  at  the  village  well,  for  the  purpose 
of  refreshing  our  horses,  and  were  treated  with  a  volley  of  the 
most  violent  abuse  by  a  hag  of  an  old  woman,  who  seemed 
quite  disposed  to  raise  the  village  against  us.  Money  was 
offered  for  the  use  of  the  well,  but  indignantly  refused — so 
we  passed  on  and  made  the  best  of  it,  while  Hassenein  gave 
vent  to  his  anger  in  a  torrent  of  Arabic  vehemence.  1  began 
to  expect  we  should  be  pelted  with  stones — but  were  allowed 
to  pass  without  further  molestation.  The  ascent  of  Mount 
Tabor  by  the  accustomed  way,  is  not  by  any  means  difficult, 
though  almost  impracticable  by  others.  The  whole  of  it  is 
deliciously  shaded  by  a  thick  overgrowth  of  the  ilex  and  such 

30 


350 


MOTJNT  TABOR. 


like  forest  trees.  Many  wild  gazelles — delicate,  graceful  crea- 
tures — were  seen  grazing  on  the  surrounding  hills. 

On  the  summit  of  Tabor  are  extensive  ruins ;  and  to  the 
southeast  they  assume  the  form  of  fortifications,  overlooking 
a  wide  plain  of  an  oval  form,  covered  with  herbage  and  forest 
trees.  Perhaps  one  of  the  noblest  panoramic  views  in  the 
world,  is  that  obtained  from  the  highest  point  of  the  ruins. 
Northwest,  in  the  distance,  is  the  ridge  of  Carmel :  south,  are 
the  lovely  mountains  of  Samaria  running  east  and  west,  and 
bounding  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  where  the  chariot  of  Ahab 
once  rolled,  as  the  monarch  fled  before  the  coming  danger. 
Immediately  in  front  of  these  are  the  hills  of  Gilboa  ;  and 
nearer,  is  little  Hermon,  overshadowing  the  cities  of  Endor 
and  Nain.  On  the  east,  stretches  out  the  scene  of  the  Re¬ 
deemer’s  early  ministry — while,  embosomed  in  its  undula¬ 
tions,  the  blue  waters  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  reflect  the  sun¬ 
beam.  South  of  the  lake  is  the  plain  of  Jericho ;  and  beyond, 
rise  up  the  distant  peaks  of  Anti-Libanus  ;  while  onwards  to 
the  north,  the  vast  mass  of  Lebanon  sets  up  its  noble,  snow¬ 
capped  barriers. 

As  a  military  position,  perhaps  Tabor  has  been  one  of  ihe 
most  available,  from  the  time  that  Barak  went  down  from 
thence  with  ten  thousand  men  after  him,  to  contend  against 
Sisera  with  his  iron  chariots  and  bannered  hosts,  all  marshall¬ 
ed  in  the  plain  below.  From  its  heights,  Josephus  for  a  long 
time  defied  the  force  of  Roman  arms  in  the  last  struggles  of 
declining  Israel.  The  ruins  yet  visible,  tell  a  sad  tale  of  vio¬ 
lence,  of  conflict,  and  decay.  But  there  is  one  thing  which 
gives  peculiar  interest  to  this  memorable  mountain,  and  that 
is,  the  long-maintained  tradition  of  its  having  been  the  scene 
of  our  Redeemer’s  transfiguration.  I  enter  not  into  any  dis¬ 
cussion  on  this  point.  It  is  difficult  (is  it  not  needless  ?)  to 
question  a  tradition  so  ancient  and  so  steadily  maintained.  I 
confess,  I  gave  my  mind  up  to  it,  and  felt — surely  it  is  “  good 
to  be  here.” 

Near  the  summit  of  the  mount,  hid  in  a  cavern  approached 
by  a  few  rude  steps,  is  a  most  delicious  well  of  liquid  crystal 


APPROACH  TO  THE  SEA  OF  GALILEE. 


351 


Fatigued  and  weary,  we  descended  and  found  the  water  to  b<3 
of  icy  coldness.  The  burning  sun  could  not  reach  it.  A 
black  Nubian  slave,  belonging  to  the  Muleteers  who  accom¬ 
panied  us,  sat  on  his  heels  in  mute  surprise  at  our  ecstacy  on 
meeting  with  such  delicious  refreshment  in  such  a  place. 

Having  made  our  descent,  we  proceeded  along  a  mountain 
path  surrounded  by  fine  forest  scenery,  much  like  an  English 
park  ;  and  at  length  found  the  Muleteers  awaiting  us  in  the 
high  road  towards  Tiberias,  under  a  magnificently  spreading 
nabbukh  tree,  beyond  a  considerable  Bedaween  encampment, 
through  which  we  had  passed  unmolested.  Here  we  made 
our  noontide  rest.  I  gathered  fresh  water-cresses  from  a 
little  rill  hard  by,  and  added  them  to  the  provisions  for  our 
slender  meal.  At  about  three  o’clock  we  resumed  the  march, 
bearing  off  in  an  easterly  direction  ;  and,  after  passing  over 
many  miles  of  bare  and  uncultivated  plain,  with  here  and 
there  a  bit  of  rocky  elevation,  we  reached  in  about  four  hours 
the  brow  of  a  steep  acclivity — from  which  Tiberias,  and  be¬ 
yond  it  the  Sea  of  Galilee  and  the  hills  of  Bashan  broke 
magnificently  upon  the  view.  And  here,  then,  began  the 
wondrous  ministry  of  that  mighty  Prophet — whom  God  had 
also  “  exalted  with  his  right  hand  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Sa¬ 
viour,  for  to  give  repentance  to  Israel,  and  forgiveness  of 
sins.1’  Here  was  first  heard  the  sounding  forth  of  that  gospel, 
which  now  vibrates  through  the  inhabited  world — the  voice 
of  the  living  God,  speaking  in  mercy  and  love  to  apostate 
man,  from  the  lips  of  One  in  whom  dwelt  u  all  the  fulness  of 
the  Godhead,  bodily.” 

As  a  picture,  it  was  surpassingly  beautiful.  The  setting 
sun  cast  his  beams  upon  it,  shedding  also  a  richly  empurpled 
hue  on  every  object.  I  paused,  in  order  to  get  it  fully  im¬ 
printed  on  my  memory  ;  and  there  it  is  now  deposited — one 
of  the  loveliest  pictures  in  the  world. 

A  steep  descent  soon  brought  us  to  the  gates  of  Tiberias — 
a  scene  of  ruin  and  desolation,  though  once  the  abode  of  the 
luxurious  Herod.  The  traces  of  the  last  earthquake  were 
awfully  visible  in  the  shattered  walls  and  ruined  habitations. 


352 


TIBERIAS. 


In  many  open  parts  of  the  town,  tents  were  pitched  among 
ruins — the  only  dwellings  left  for  the  poor  inhabitants.  Some 
of  the  injured  houses  had  been  partially  restored,  and  others 
rebuilt :  and  on  the  flat  roofs  were  constructed  small  sheds 
made  of  sedges  and  the  branches  of  trees,  under  the  shade  of 
which  the  inhabitants  of  Tiberias  usually  pass  the  night  for 
the  sake  of  a  cooler  atmosphere.  The  temperature  is  usually 
very  high.  As  we  passed  through  the  desolated  streets,  we 
saw  a  large  party  of  Jews,  of  various  nations,  seated  in  the 
dust  round  the  ruins  of  one  of  their  synagogues,  which  they 
were  making  efforts  to  restore.  Filth,  poverty,  and  squalid 
wretchedness,  characterize  the  ancient  city  of  Tiberias ;  and 
an  air  of  hopeless  desolation  pervades  it. 

We  were  lodged  with  a  German  Jew — a  stirring  and  intel¬ 
ligent  looking  man.  His  house  was  a  locanda  or  hotel — 
clean  enough  to  be  sure,  for  Tiberias.  The  first  room  was 
fitted  up  with  homely  dewans  ;  and  the  inner  one,  with  its 
stone  floor  and  whitewashed  walls,  had  the  usual  European 
furniture,  of  an  uncostly  kind.  This  was  allotted  for  our  ac¬ 
commodation.  We  did  not  expect  to  be  thus  lodged  at  Tibe¬ 
rias  ;  and  the  surprise  was  increased,  when  in  preparation  for 
our  meal,  our  host  brought  out  from  a  massive  chest  of  draw¬ 
ers — silver  candlesticks,  silver  spoons  and  forks,  and  various 
other  articles  of  the  same  metal — as  if  to  show  us  what  a  set 
off  he  could  produce,  against  all  the  external  wretchedness 
around  us.  Hassenein  had  previously  recommended  us  to 
take  up  our  quarters  with  our  Jewish  friend  (of  whom  he  had 
some  knowledge),  because  at  this  time  of  the  year,  he  said, 
the  fleas  migrate  from  the  towns  to  the  country,  for  the  sake 
of  something  they  like  in  the  dry  grass  and  herbs,  so  that,  if 
we  pitched  our  tents  outside  the  walls,  we  could  only  expect 
to  be  overrun  with  vermin.  We  were  none  the  better  for 
acting  on  this  suggestion — for  during  our  stay  it  seemed  as  if 
all  the  fleas,  musquitoes,  and  other  biting  animalculse  of  Syria 
were  in  league  for  our  disquiet.  I  never  passed  two  such 
nights — to  say  nothing  of  -a  height  of  temperature  which 
kept  me  as  if  in  a  vapor  bath  all  the  time. 


THE  SEA  OF  GALILEE. 


353 


We  set  out  to  explore  the  western  side  of  the  Sea  of  Gali* 
lee.  We  had  intended,  if  practicable,  to  procure  a  boat,  for 
the  purpose  of  going  as  far  north  as  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan ; 
but  not  one  was  to  be  had  ;  so  relinquishing  that  prospect,  we 
proceeded  on  horseback.  During  the  first  two  hours  the  road 
was  rocky  and  steep,  and  afforded  such  a  point  of  elevation  as 
enabled  us  to  command  a  charming  view  of  the  lake  as  well 
as  of  the  interesting  country  on  the  eastern  side,  every  part  of 
which  was  associated  with  our  blessed  Lord’s  ministry  and 
miracles.  The  waters  of  the  noble  lake  were  smooth  as 
glass  ,  and  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  that  it  was  susceptible 
of  being  lashed  by  such  terrific  storms  as  are  of  frequent  oc¬ 
currence  still. 

Its  estimated  dimensions  are  fifteen  miles  in  length,  and 
about  six  in  breadth ;  but  the  elevations  on  either  side,  give 
an  idea  of  greater  extent.  The  general  appearance  of  the 
surrounding  scenery  was  that  of  sterility — except  on  the  west¬ 
ern  shore,  where  a  green  and  richly  wooded  plain  stretches 
downwards  to  the  margin,  and  is  intersected  by  many  small 
rivulets  of  fresh  water.  The  Jordan  flows  through  the  lake, 
and  takes  its  course  along  the  plain  of  Jericho  to  the  Dead 
Sea.  It  is  a  very  charming  picture  ;  but  doubly  delightful 
on  account  of  the  august  associations  which  it  awakens  in  the 
mind.  It  had  often  borne  upon  its  bosom  the  most  precious 
freightage — the  incarnate  Son  of  God.  It  had  yielded  obe¬ 
dience  to  the  gentlest,  though  the  mightiest  voice  that  ever 
spake  on  earth,  saying  u  Peace  be  still and  many  a  time 
have  its  hushed  waves  paused  as  if  to  listen  to  a  teaching 
more  than  human,  when  the  assembled  multitudes  were  gath¬ 
ered  on  its  shores.  Here,  too,  the  faith  of  Peter  was  tried 
when  he  essayed  to  walk  on  the  wave,  and  trembled  at  its 
wild  threatenings.  And  it  was  from  the  banks  of  these  very 
waters  that  those  humble  fishermen  were  called,  who  with  all 
readiness  of  heart,  left  all,  and  followed  their  divine  Master. 
As  I  surveyed  the  scene — I  felt,  this  is  surely  one  of  the 
grand  localities  of  the  Holy  Land.  There  can  be  no  place  for 
error.  Here  I  can  gaze  with  a  satisfied  eye  and  a  full  heart. 

30* 


354 


THE  SEA  OF  GALILEE. 


How  often  have  my  Saviour’s  feet  trod  these  very  paths — how 
often  has  his  eye  rested  on  these  mountain  ranges,  as  mine 
rests  upon  them  now. 

At  about  two  hours  distant  from  Tiberias  we  reached  a  poor 
miserable  village,  with  a  mere  handful  of  population,  called 
Migdil — generally  supposed  to  be  Magdala.  A  little  beyond 
are  several  copious  streams  of  brackish  water,  which  flow  into 
the  lake,  from  springs  rising  in  the  mountains  on  the  west. 
However  abundant  these  streams  may  be,  yet  their  constant 
flowing  imparts  no  saline  flavor  to  the  waters  of  the  lake, 
which  are  deliciously  fresh — very  like  those  of  the  Jordan. 
In  about  another  hour,  after  proceeding  through  lovely  cop¬ 
pices  similar  to  those  which  fringe  the  Jordan,  crowded  with 
oleanders,  tamarisk,  and  nabbukh  trees,  we  reached  another 
village  called  Mingea ,  commonly  believed  to  be  situate  within 
the  parts  of  Dalmanutha.  Another  hour  brought  us  to  Tel- 
houm ,  deemed  by  some  travellers  to  be  the  site  of  the  ancient 
Capernaum.  It  is  a  slight  peninsula,  standing  out  into  the 
sea  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  the  line  of  the  coast. 
At  the  extreme  point  is  the  ruin  of  a  square  tower,  probably 
constructed  of  the  stones  of  the  fallen  city.  Amidst  many 
other  fragments  are  the  remains  of  a  temple  on  a  bold  scale, 
in  rather  coarse,  white  marble;  and  though  some  idea  of  ar¬ 
chitectural  form  and  order  is  still  traceable,  yet  Capernaum, 
with  its  towers  and  temples,  is  now  but  a  name.  Once  lifted 
up  to  heaven,  it  has  been  cast  down  to  hades.  And  Chorazin 
and  Bethsaida — where  are  they  ?  That  they  once  existed 
and  flourished,  and  were  graced  by  the  divine  presence  of  the 
Eternal  One,  we  are  sure.  That  the  woe  denounced  against 
them  has  been  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  who  will  deny  ?  But 
yet  mystery — deep  mystery,  overhangs  this  region,  once  so 
privileged,  but  always  so  faithless ;  and  now,  when  the  pass¬ 
ing  Arab  is  questioned  and  bid  to  tell  what  he  knows  of  Caper¬ 
naum,  Chorazin,  Bethsaida — he  guesses,  or  is  silent ;  and  con¬ 
jecture  only,  fills  the  mind  of  the  intelligent  and  thoughtful 
traveller. 

We  lingered  delightfully  about  the  land  of  Gennesaretl} 


CANA  OF  GALILEE. 


355 


musing  on  the  gospel  narratives  ;  and  I  indulged  myself  by 
bathing  in  the  clear  waters  of  the  lake.  In  the  evening  we 
returned  to  Tiberias,  having  resolved  on  retracing  our  steps 
early  on  the  following  morning. 

By  six  o’clock  we  were  on  our  way ;  and  after  a  ride  of 
four  hours  and  a  half,  came  in  sight  of  Cana  of  Galilee , 
which  we  determined  to  make  the  place  of  our  noontide  rest ; 
and  accordingly  spread  our  carpets  in  a  delightfully  shaded 
grove  of  fig  and  pomegranate  trees,  having  our  horses  and 
beasts  of  burden  tethered  around  us.  Just  in  front,  on  a  slight 
elevation,  stood  the  small  and  now  miserable  little  village, 
picturesque  enough,  to  be  sure,  but  peculiarly  interesting,  as 
the  scene  of  our  blessed  Redeemer’s  first  miracle.  Here  then 
it  was  that  Jesus  with  Mary  his  Mother,  sat  as  guests,  and 
shared  the  hospitalities  of  the  assembled  marriage  party  ;  and 
here  it  was — that  the  very  water  owned  the  presence  and  the 
power  of  its  Creator.*  The  main  fountain,  or  spring  of 
Cana  was  near  at  hand  ;  and  from  it  we  were  supplied  with 
water  for  our  present  refreshment  and  future  use.  It  was 
pleasant  to  encourage  the  not  unfounded  notion,  that  from 
this  very  spring  was  drawn  the  water  which  the  governor  of 
the  feast  designated  as  11  the  good  wine.”  The  greater  part 
of  the  few  inhabitants  of  Cana  are  said  to  be  Christians, 
which  is  in  some  degree  indicated  by  its  present  name — Kef- 
fer-lienna ,  which  means  infidel- Cana.  Keffer  ( infidel )  is  a 
term  usually  applied  by  the  Musselmans  to  places  whose  in¬ 
habitants  profess  Christianity.  It  was  when  Jesus  was  once 
sojourning  at  Cana  of  Galilee,  on  his  return  from  Samaria, 
that  the  nobleman  of  Capernaum,  whose  son  was  at  the  point 
of  death,  came  beseeching  him  to  go  down  and  heal  the  child. 
“  Go  thy  way — thy  son  liveth.”  The  omnipotence  of  the  di¬ 
vine  will  was  displayed — u  At  the  seventh  hour  the  fever  left 
him.  So  the  father  knew  that  it  was  at  the  same  hour  in  the 
which  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thy  son  liveth  :  and  himself 
believed,  and  his  whole  house.”f 

In  the  afternoon  we  resumed  our  journey  towards  Naza- 

t  See  John  iv.  46 — 54. 


♦  John  ii.  1 — 11. 


356 


SCRIPTURE  IMAGERY - ADVENTURE. 


reth,  by  a  road — the  usual  road  through  which  our  Redeemer 
must  frequently  have  passed.  It  is  manifestly  a  very  ancient 
road,  but  dull  and  uninteresting  except  on  account  of  its  asso¬ 
ciations.  We  reached  Nazareth  about  six  o’clock  in  the  even¬ 
ing,  charmed  with  the  delightful  excursion  we  had  made. 
How  many  of  the  images  employed  in  our  Lord’s  parables 
and  discourses  arrested  our  attention  while  at  Nazareth  and 
in  Galilee — the  sheep  and  goats  constantly  herded  together 
— the  shepherds  leading  and  the  flocks  following ;  the  thresh¬ 
ing-floor — the  winnowing  of  the  corn,  and  the  burning  up 
of  the  chaff;  the  birds  of  the  air  skimming  along  the  valleys 
— the  foxes,  with  their  holes  in  the  rocks  which  they  inhabit ; 
the  flowers  of  the  field,  &c.,  &c.  How  very  familiar  and  de¬ 
lightful  did  Scripture  imagery  become. 

We  had  purposed  to  start  early  on  the  next  morning 
towards  Mount  Carmel,  but  Abd’lawahyed  discovered  that 
he  had  been  robbed  during  our  absence.  We  had  left  all  our 
heavy  baggage  at  the  convent ;  and  he,  amongst  other  things 
had  left  his  purse,  containing  nearly  the  whole  of  two  months 
wages  which  we  had  paid  him  at  Jerusalem.  Two  hundred 
and  fifty  piastres  were  stolen.  The  key  of  our  rooms  had  been 
left  in  charge  of  a  servant  of  the  convent,  who  had  previously 
been  in  attendance  upon  us.  As  soon  as  the  robbery  was  dis¬ 
covered,  it  was  made  known  to  the  Superior,  who  waited  upon 
us  instantly,  and  appeared  much  distressed  that  such  a  thing 
should  have  happened.  Abd’lawahyed  and  Hassenein  went 
to  the  Governor’s  house  (a  Turk),  with  the  intention  of  seek¬ 
ing  redress ;  but  he  was  asleep ,  and  must  not  be  awakened. 
We  resolved  on  awaiting  his  worship’s  waking  time,  however 
it  might  interfere  with  our  intended  movements,  in  order  that, 
if  possible,  justice  might  be  obtained.  We  waited  till  half-past 
eight  o’clock,  when  the  servants  were  admitted  to  an  audience 
of  the  Governor,  and  stated  their  grievance  ;  but — oh  shame ! 
he  said  he  could  not  interfere,  as  we  (the  masters)  and  the 
servants  of  the  convent  were  all  Christians !  There  was  an 
end  of  the  matter — and  we  departed  without  redress. 

At  nine  o’clock  we  started,  with  no  very  pleasant  impressions 


JOURNEY  TOWARDS  MOUNT  CARMEL. 


357 


either  of  the  Turkish  virtue  or  Christian  honesty  of  the  people 
of  Nazareth.  After  descending  the  bare  ridge  of  hills  which 
surround  the  city,  we  again  entered  on  the  western  portion  of 
the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  and  crossed  till  we  reached  that  part 
of  it  which  is  usually  called  the  plain  of  Megiddo.  We  were 
soon  in  the  midst  of  the  finest  forests  of  oak,  where  we  spread 
our  carpets  during  the  midday  heat.  I  could  easily  have 
imagined  myself  transported  to  some  of  the  fine  old  park  and 
forest  scenery  of  the  best  parts  of  England.  The  songs  of 
joyous  birds  floated  around  us,  as  we  stretched  ourselves  on 
our  carpets  for  repose.  I  learnt  to  sleep  at  noon,  with  as 
much  readiness  as  if  I  had  been  born  an  Arab.  It  is  quite 
surprising  to  find  how  soon  an  European  drops  into  the  habits 
of  the  people  among  whom  he  lives.  An  Arab  can  scarcely 
take  a  recumbent  position  ere  sleep  closes  his  eyelids ;  and  so 
it  was  with  ourselves. 

Much  had  been  said  before  we  left  England,  of  the  dis¬ 
turbed  state  of  Syria,  and  of  the  danger  that  would  probably 
await  travellers  passing  through  the  country.  Though  much 
less  apprehension  was  entertained  by  our  friends  in  Alexan¬ 
dria  and  Cairo,  still  its  unsettled  state  was  freely  admitted. 
But  certainly  we  never  experienced  one  circumstance  tending 
to  found  a  suspicion  that  Europeans  would  be  endangered. 
We  travelled  as  safely  as  we  could  have  done  in  our  own 
land.  It  is  true,  the  people  are  all  armed,  and  so  were  we ; 
and  we  made  a  point  of  keeping  our  weapons  visible ;  but 
never  had  the  least  occasion  for  doing  more.  We  received 
the  usual  “ Marahabbah ,”  (You  are  welcome),  from  all  whom 
we  met  by  the  way,  and  as  we  entered  the  various  villages. 
We  obtained  for  a  small  price,  at  most  of  them,  delicious  milk, 
bread,  and  curd  cheeses,  made  in  little  round  cakes.  The 
people  seem  very  poor,  though  industrious;  and  for  reasons 
already  stated,  it  is  impossible,  under  existing  influences,  that 
they  should  be  rich,  or  even  in  easy  circumstances.  From  all 
I  could  learn,  there  was  a  prevailing  dread  among  them  of 
being  put  under  the  government  of  Ibrahim  Pasha.  An 
amusing  incident  occurred  one  day,  when  I  had  for  a  time 


358 


AMUSING  MISAPPREHENSION - RIVER  KISHON. 


doffed  my  Arab  attire  and  resumed  an  European  one.  We 
saw  a  large  party  of  Syrians  approaching  from  a  distance, 
with  their  asses  laden  ;  and  as  they  drew  near  they  made  a 
brief  pause  to  reconnoitre,  and  fixed  their  eyes  upon  us  with 
an  intent  inquisitiveness.  When  we  had  passed,  they  called 
aside  one  of  the  Muleteers,  and  cautiously  asked  him  whether 
I  was  not  Ibrahim  Pasha,  disguised  in  an  European  dress,  and 
come  over  to  assume  the  government  of  Syria.  We  had  a 
hearty  laugh  at  the  amusing  misapprehension.  I  had  never 
in  my  life  before  had  the  honor  of  being  mistaken  for  a  great 
man. 

Quitting  our  delightful  forest  shade  at  five  o’clock,  we 
reached  in  about  half  an  hour  the  vale  of  Zebulun — a  rich, 
but  almost  uncultivated  waste,  having  on  the  west  the  long 
ridge  of  Carmel,  which  at  the  part  nearest  to  us  was  clothed 
to  the  very  summit  with  fine  oak  trees,  amidst  which  were  a 
few  gazelles  grazing.  Soon  after  entering  on  the  plain,  we 
crossed  the  almost  dry  bed  of  the  River  Kishon.  Its  banks 
were  fringed  with  beautiful  oleanders  in  bloom,  and  many 
other  flowering  shrubs.  By  this  noted  river  were  slain  the 
prophets  of  Baal ;  and  hither  Deborah  the  prophetess  drew  to 
Barak,  Sisera  the  captain  of  Jabin’s  army  with  his  chariots  and 
his  multitude,  and  delivered  them  into  his  hand.  u  The  kings 
came  and  fought ;  then  fought  the  kings  of  Canaan  in 
Taanach,  by  the  waters  of  Megiddo :  they  took  no  gain  of 
money.  They  fought  from  heaven  :  the  stars  in  their  courses 
fought  against  Sisera.  The  river  of  Kishon  swept  them  away, 
that  ancient  river,  the  river  Kishon.”*  Silent  was  the  scene 
of  those  awful  transactions,  and  peaceful  as  a  vale  in  which 
blood  had  never  been  shed.  Before  sunset,  we  had  advanced 
far  enough  just  to  descry  the  horizon-line  of  the  Mediterra¬ 
nean,  and  saw  the  last  beams  of  the  sun  brilliantly  defining  it. 
By  about  eight  o’clock,  we  were  encamped  for  the  night,  with 
the  summit  of  Mount  Carmel — that  part  of  it  more  particu¬ 
larly  referred  to  in  Scripture,  looking  down  upon  us  in  quiet 
majesty. 


*  See  Judges  iv.  5. 


MOITNT  CARMEL. 


359 


1  confess  that  I  gazed  upon  Mount  Carme]  with  a  slight 
sense  of  disappointment ;  but  only  because  it  did  not  quite 
correspond  with  the  mental  picture  I  had  formed  from  the 
time  that  Scripture  first  made  its  name  familiar  to  me.  The 
length  of  the  ridge  diminishes  the  sense  of  height;  and  it 
becomes  less  lofty  as  it  slopes  off  towards  the  sea,  where  the 
elevation  is  estimated  at  from  nine  hundred  to  one  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea  level.  The  proper  effect  of  Mount  Carmel 
is  however  to  be  felt  when  occupying  its  summit,  looking 
over  the  wide  ocean-expanse,  and  again  when  seen  from  the 
heights  of  Acre.  “  The  excellency  of  Carmel,”  if  understood 
to  have  consisted  in  its  luxuriant  fruitfulness,  certainly  ap¬ 
pears  to  have  passed  away ;  for  though  in  many  parts  it  yet 
abounds  with  the  ilex,  and  is  skirted  with  a  fine  growth  of 
noble  olives,  yet  the  word  of  the  prophet  Amos — when  he 
said  u  The  top  of  Carmel  shall  wither” — has  been  realized  tc 
the  letter. 

We  quitted  our  encampment  in  the  plain  at  the  usual  time ; 
and  in  about  two  hours  reached  Khaifa,  from  whence  we 
obtained  a  charming  view  of  the  sea,  and  the  bay  of  Acre. 
This  little  town  has  an  inviting  appearance,  and  the  approach 
to  it  is  very  beautiful — through  groves  of  palm,  fig,  and  olive 
trees ;  but,  like  all  Syrian  towns  and  villages,  it  is  wretched 
and  uncleanly  within.  We  passed  as  rapidly  as  possible 
through  its  crowded  and  untidy  bazaars,  and  made  our  way 
to  the  Latin  Convent — a  stately  building  of  its  kind,  occupy¬ 
ing  one  of  the  finest  positions  in  the  world,  nearly  on  the 
very  summit  of  Mount  Carmel,  overlooking  the  sea.  The 
ascent  is  by  an  extremely  steep  road,  quite  as  much  as  our 
stout  little  Arab  horses  and  loaded  mules  could  manage.  We 
were  received  with  the  greatest  kindness  by  an  intelligent 
and  courteous  monk ;  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  civility 
we  received  during  the  whole  of  our  short  sojourn  on  this 
notable  mountain.  The  convent  has  been  entirely  rebuilt 
within  the  last  twelve  or  thirteen  years,  and  is  upon  a  fine 
bold  scale,  and  of  most  substantial  masonry.  It  presents  its 
lengthened  front  due  west,  and  is  three  stories  in  height. 


360 


LATIN  CONVENT  ON  MOUNT  CARMEL. 


The  church  is  well  constructed ;  and  under  the  high  altar  is 
shown  the  cave  in  which  the  prophet  Elijah  is  said  to  have 
dwelt.  It  may  be  so j  and  I  dare  say  the  monks  believe  it. 
Why  should  they  not  ?  The  view  from  the  roof  is  superb, 
in  the  full  and  real  sense  of  the  expression — and  the  sunset 
which  I  beheld  was  magnificent  beyond  description.  Our 
accommodations  in  the  convent  were  really  comfortable.  The 
sleeping-rooms  are  nice,  airy,  whitewashed  habitations,  with 
neat  bed  furniture,  and  as  many  conveniences  as  are  usually 
afforded  in  those  of  an  Italian  hotel,  which  most  travellers 
know  are  rather  slender,  after  all.  I  could  not  join  my  friend 
and  fellow  traveller  in  exploring  the  mountain  heights,  on 
account  of  a  sprain  of  my  foot  which  happened  at  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  and  kept  me  very  much  a  prisoner,  except  when  on 
horseback.  But — it  was  enough  to  be  on  Mount  Carmel — 
to  realize  in  my  mind  the  transactions  of  which  it  was  the 
scene,  as  recorded  in  Scripture.  It  was  there  that  Elijah 
“cast  himself  down  upon  the  earth,  and  put  his  face  between 
his  knees,  and  said  to  his  servant,  Go  up  now,  and  look  to¬ 
wards  the  sea.  And  he  went  up  and  looked,  and  said,  There 
is  nothing.  And  he  said,  Go  again  seven  times.  And  it 
came  to  pass  at  the  seventh  time,  that  he  said,  Behold,  there 
ariseth  a  little  cloud  out  of  the  sea,  like  a  man’s  hand.  And 
he  said,  Go  up,  say  unto  Ahab,  Prepare  thy  chariot,  and  get 
thee  down,  that  the  rain  stop  thee  not  ”*  And  certainly,  on 
some  part  of  this  mountain  range  it  was,  that  the  prophet 
gathered  “  all  Israel”  .  .  .  .  “  and  the  prophets  of  Baal  four 
hundred  and  fifty,  and  the  prophets  of  the  groves  four  hun¬ 
dred,  which  did  eat  at  Jezebel’s  table . and  came  unto  all 

the  people  and  said,  How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions? 
If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow  him  :  But  if  Baal,  then  follow  him’ 
— and  there  it  was  that  the  majesty  and  honor  of  the  God  of 
Israel  were  vindicated  by  a  marvellous  and  miraculous  inter¬ 
position.!  The  recollection  of  Mount  Carmel  will  not  be 
easily  obliterated  from  my  mind. 

Next  morning  we  took  our  leave  of  the  friendly  monks 

t  1  Kings,  xviii.  19,  &c. 


*  1  Kings,  xviii.  42 — 44. 


SCHOOLS  OF  THE  PROPHETS - ACRE. 


361 


and  proceeded  towards  Acre,  the  fine  commanding-  position 
of  which  was  very  distinctly  visible  from  the  heights  of  Mount 
Carmel.  We  descended  by  a  difficult  path  winding  along  on 
the  western  slope  of  the  mountain,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting 
some  ancient  caves,  over  and  about  which,  rude  buildings  have 
been  erected.  These  are  called,  and  supposed  to  have  been, 
the  “  Schools  of  the  Prophets.”  There  is  nothing  remarkable 
about  them,  except  the  tradition.  Again  passing  through 
Khaifa,  we  pursued  our  way  towards  Acre,  keeping  at  the 
very  brink  of  the  sea  all  the  time,  so  that  the  waves  some¬ 
times  washed  our  horses  hoofs.  On  the  right  was  the  far- 
stretching  plain  of  Acre,  running  up  northward,  and  bounded 
on  the  east  by  the  hills  of  Nazareth.  This  plain  is  well 
watered,  and  capable  of  great  fertility — but  alas !  barrenness 
is  its  sad  characteristic.  It  is  indeed  a  melancholy  thing  to 
mark  the  capabilities  of  Syria  and  Palestine,  and  yet  to  see 
an  impoverished  and  miserable  population  almost  starving 
amidst  the  sources  of  abundance. 

The  bay  of  Acre  is  one  of  the  finest  things  that  can  be  seen. 
And  every  step  which  the  traveller  takes  along  its  bold  and 
graceful  sweep,  enables  him  to  look  back  upon  the  noble 
ridge  of  Carmel,  wjrich  then  assumes  its  proper  character  and 
position.  In  about  four  hours  we  reached  the  gates  of  Acre, 
having  crossed  the  shallow  fords  of  the  rivers  Kishon  and 
Belus,  where  they  empty  themselves  into  the  sea,  and  are  not 
deeper  than  the  hocks  of  a  small  Arab  horse.  At  the  ford  of 
the  Belus,  we  met  a  large  and  picturesque  group  of  Syrian 
Christians,  male  and  female,  dressed  all  in  their  best,  and 
mostly  mounted  on  horses,  mules  and  asses,  en  route  for 
Mount  Carmel,  for  the  purpose  of  attending  a  great  festival, 
to  be  held  in  honor  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  The  convent  was 
in  all  the  stir  of  preparation  when  we  left  it. 

On  reaching  Acre,  what  a  scene  of  ruin  presented  itself! 
The  history  of  its  recent  bombardment  is  fresh  in  the  memory 
of  most  of  my  readers.  There  was  no  part  which  did  not 
bear  traces  of  the  scathe  of  war.  Many  of  its  buildings  ap¬ 
peared  to  have  been  thrown  together  as  if  by  an  earthquake, 

31 


362  ACRE - JOURNEY  TOWARDS  TYRE  AND  SIDON. 

The  fortifications  were  but  yawning  and  tottering  rums ;  and 
in  the  very  streets,  cannon  balls  lay  scattered  about  in  great 
abundance.  My  lameness  confined  me  to  the  saddle,  so  that 
[  could  not  mount  the  ramparts  or  explore  the  ruins  minutely ; 
but  I  saw  enough  to  make  me  shudder  at  the  immediate  con¬ 
sequences  of  even  the  most  justifiable  warfare.  Some  few 
efforts  at  restoration  were  being  made  ;  but  they  were  slow 
and  feeble.  Many  a  year  must  elapse  ere,  even  under  the 
most  favorable  circumstances,  the  lost  importance  of  Acre  can 
be  regained.  The  few  bazaars  which  remain  are  poor  and 
scanty,  and  seem  to  supply  only  the  barest  necessaries  of  life. 

We  now  bent  our  steps  towards  Tyre  and  Sidon ;  and  it 
was  with  no  small  interest  that  I  looked  forward  to  visiting 
scenes  with  which  the  mind  forms  such  melancholy  associa¬ 
tions,  while  dwelling  on  the  word  of  prophecy  which  has  had 
its  most  exact  fulfilment.  We  were  still  upon  the  plain  of 
Acre,  on  which  are  several  small  villages  surrounded  with 
groves  of  fig  trees,  under  one  of  which  we  took  our  noontide 
rest,  and  then  passed  onwards  through  several  cultivated  tracts 
of  ground  bearing  their  abundant  crops  of  melons  and  cucum¬ 
bers  ;  while  in  the  midst  of  the  various  allotments  was  to  be 
seen  the  “  lodge  in  a  garden  of  cucumbers.”  The  prolific 
character  of  the  soil  was  very  apparent,  more  particularly 
when  we  reached  some  fine  gardens,  after  the  Turkish  taste, 
belonging  to  Ab’dallah  Pasha.  They  are  of  great  extent, 
and  surrounded  by  plantations  of  the  stately  cypress,  going  up 
with  its  graceful  spire,  and  contrasting  its  deep  tints  with  the 
fresh  glossy  green  of  the  orange  and  lemon  trees  which  grow 
in  profusion  within  the  borders.  Through  the  gardens  runs  a 
delicious  stream,  coursing  its  way  from  the  hills  eastward,  to¬ 
wards  the  sea.  We  pitched  our  tents  for  the  night  near  a  fine 
spring  of  water,  within  about  three  hours  of  Tyre,  called 
Ayun  el  Masergi  ;  and  so  near  the  sea,  that  on  the  following 
day  we  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  bathing.  There  were  two 
drawbacks  upon  the  comfort  of  our  encampment — the  one  was 
an  incessantly  clamorous  chorus  of  frogs  ;  the  other,  the  dan¬ 
ger  of  scorpions,  of  the  poisonous  kind,  one  of  which  was 


CAPE  BLANCO - SCAL.E  TYRIORUM. 


363 


caught  by  the  servants  while  pitching  their  tent.  Happily  we 
escaped  without  being  assailed  by  these  venomous  creaturesj 
at  any  time  ;  but  were  aroused  from  our  slumbers  at  night,  by 
an  outcry  from  Hassenein,  who  came  rushing  into  the  tent,  as* 
serting  that  he  had  been  stung  on  his  hand.  I  instantly  ad* 
ministered  to  him  a  dose  of  ammonia  (which  he  deemed  almost 
as  bad  as  the  mischief  he  professed  to  have  sustained,)  and  sent 
him  to  his  tent  again.  In  the  morning  I  inquired,  and  found  he 
had  not  been  really  stung,  but  had  probably  in  his  sleep  been 
punctured  by  thistles,  which  were  abundant ;  and  his  fears 
had  given  them  the  form  of  scorpions.  In  former  journeys 
he  had  been  really  bitten,  and  suffered  very  seriously.  So 
great  was  his  habitual  dread,  that  once  when  I  gave  him  a 
bottle  to  stow  away,  in  which  I  had  preserved  one  of  these 
reptiles  in  brandy,  he  actually  threw  it  on  the  ground  in  terror, 
as  if  the  dead  creature  could  attack  him  through  the  glass. 

The  temperature  was  very  high  during  this  part  of  the 
journey ;  but  I  had  broken  my  thermometer,  and  could  not 
continue  to  register  the  daily  state  of  the  atmosphere.  It  was 
often  very  trying  to  the  strength  and  spirits.  On  quitting 
Ayun  el  Masergi,  we  continued  for  a  short  time  across  a  level 
surface,  still  within  sound  and  sight  of  the  Mediterranean 
waves, and  soon  arrived  at  the  far-famed  rocky  promontory — 
the  Album  Prornontorium,  or  Cape  Blanco.  It  is  a  mighty 
mass  of  limestone,  and  ascends  precipitously  from  the  brink  of 
the  sea,  whose  restless  breakers  dash  around  its  base.  Our 
road  to  Tyre  lay  over  this  vast  rock.  The  pass  itself  is  called 
Scalce  Tyriorum ,  and  is  said  to  have  been  the  work  of  Alexan¬ 
der  the  Great.  Whether  or  not,  it  assuredly  was  the  work  of 
an  enterprising  and  bold  spirit.  It  looked  very  formidable  as 
we  began  the  ascent ;  but  the  way  on  the  southern  side  was 
easy,  compared  with  what  awaited  us  on  the  northern.  From 
the  summit,  the  view  was  magnificent,  and  we  were  enabled 
to  catch  our  first  distant  view  of  Tyre.  After  pausing  a  few 
minutes,  we  began  the  descent.  The  way  is  cut  in  stairs — • 
steep  and  difficult.  It  must  have  been  a  work  of  immense 
labor  and  cost.  Sometimes  the  path  lay  on  the  very  brow  of 


364 


RAS-EL-AYUN. 


the  rock,  overlooking  the  sea  from  a  frightful  perpendiculai 
height — guarded  only  by  a  low  natural  parapet  of  rock. 
With  any  horses  but  those  of  the  country,  I  think  I  could  not 
have  dared  to  attempt  the  pass :  but  our  poor  animals  per 
formed  admirably,  and  brought  us  on  the  shore  beyond  in 
perfect  safety,  and  without  even  a  false  step. 

The  way  towards  Tyre  was  now  easy  enough.  There  were 
no  objects  of  particular  interest  to  claim  our  attention,  till  within 
about  an  hour  of  the  city,  when  we  turned  off  a  little  east¬ 
ward,  for  the  purpose  of  exploring  some  remarkable  artificial 
and  ancient  curiosities,  consisting  of  fountains  and  reservoirs, 
originally  intended  to  supply  Tyre  with  fresh  water  by  means 
of  an  aqueduct.  They  are  called  Ras-el-Ayun  (the  head  of 
the  fountain).  Their  unquestionable  antiquity,  and  the  admi¬ 
rable  quality  of  the  workmanship,  the  solidity  of  which  is 
quite  unimpaired  by  time,  invest  them  with  a  peculiarity  of 
interest.  They  appear  not  to  have  undergone  the  least  change 
since  Maundrell  visited  them  in  1697.  I  therefore  subjoin  his 
description,  as  being  more  minute  and  satisfactory  than  I  am 
capable  of  giving.* 

*  “  Ras-el-Ayun  is  a  place  where  are  the  cisterns  called  Solomon’s,  sup¬ 
posed,  according  to  the  common  tradition  hereabouts,  to  have  been  made 
by  that  great  king,  as  a  part  of  his  recompence  to  king  Hiram,  for  the  sup¬ 
plies  of  materials  sent  by  him  towards  the  building  of  the  Temple.  They 
are  doubtless  very  ancient,  but  yet  of  a  much  later  date  than  what  this  tra¬ 
dition  ascribes  to  them.  That  they  could  not  be  built  till  since  Alexander's 
time,  may  be  conjectured  from  this,  among  other  arguments — because  the 
aqueduct,  which  conveys  the  water  from  hence  to  Tyre,  is  carried  over 
the  neck  of  land  by  which  Alexander  in  his  famous  siege  of  this  place 
joined  the  city  to  the  continent;  and  as  the  cisterns  cannot  well  be  ima¬ 
gined  to  be  ancienter  than  the  aqueduct,  so  one  may  be  sure  the  aqueduct 
cannot  be  older  than  the  ground  it  stands  on.  Of  these  cisterns,  there  are 
three  entire  at  this  day,  one  about  a  furlong  and  a  half  distant  from  the  sea. 
the  other  two  a  little  further  up.  The  former  is  of  an  octagonal  figure 
twenty-two  yards  in  diameter.  It  is  elevated  above  the  ground  nine  yards 
an  the  south  side,  and  six  on  the  north,  and  within  is  said  to  be  of  an  un¬ 
fathomable  deepness;  but  ten  yards  of  lineconfuted  that  opinion.  Its  wall 
6  of  no  better  material  than  gravel  and  small  pebbles;  but  consolidated 
with  so  strong  and  tenacious  a  cement,  that  it  seems  to  be  all  one  entire 
ressel  of  rock.  Upon  the  brink  of  it,  you  have  a  walk  all  round  eight  feet 
>road.  From  which,  descending  by  one  step  on  the  south  side,  and  by 
wo  on  the  north,  you  have  another  walk  twenty-one  feet  broad.  All  this 
tructure,  though  so  broad  at  the  top,  is  yet  made  hr*  low,  so  that  the  water 
■omes  in  underneath  the  walks;  insomuch  that  I  could  not,  with  a  long 
od,  reach  the  extremity  of  the  cavity.  The  whole  vessel  contains  a  vast 


RAS-EL- AYUN - TYRE . 


365 


We  spread  our  carpets  at  noon  under  a  noble  fig  tree,  in  the 
midst  of  a  large  plantation  of  tobacco — a  matter  of  diligent 
cultivation  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tyre  and  elsewhere.  It 
grows  very  luxuriantly,  and  is,  I  believe,  held  in  esteem.  Af¬ 
ter  taking  our  accustomed  rest  and  refreshment  we  advanced  J 
and  another  hour  brought  us  to  the  gates  of  Tyre. 

Tyre  is  an  object  of  the  deepest  interest,  not  only  on  ac¬ 
count  of  its  ancient  splendor  and  political  importance,  but 
also,  and  more  especially,  on  account  of  the  fulness  and  mi- 
nuleness-of  the  prophecies  directed  against  it,  which  have  been 
fulfilled  with  the  greatest  exactness.  Tyre,  as  we  now  behold 
it,  is  as  it  were,  a  permanent,  living  witness  to  the  truth  of 
God — a  hoary  monitor — speaking  forth  from  its  desolation  to 
us  and  to  men  of  all  ages  and  climes.  Those  who  would 
rightly  appreciate  Tyre  in  this  point  of  view,  and  understand 
the  value  of  modern  descriptions  of  it,  should  carefully  study 
Isaiah  xxiii.  and  Ezek.  xxvi.  xxvii.  xxviii.  My  limits,  as  well 
as  the  plan  and  intention  of  this  work,  forbid  all  attempt  at 
an  exposition  of  these  prophecies.  But — is  there  any  need  ? 
has  not  every  prediction  become  history  ? 

Tyre  was  the  capital  of  the  ancient  Phoenicia,  and  enjoyed 
more  commercial  prosperity  than  any  city  of  the  known 
world.  It  was  built  by  the  Sidonians,  after  their  conquest  by 
the  Philistines  of  Askelon,  two  hundred  and  forty  years  at 
least  before  the  erection  of  Solomon’s  temple  ;  hence  it  is  call- 

body  of  excellent  water ;  and  is  so  well  supplied  from  its  fountain,  that 
though  there  issues  from  it  a  stream  like  a  brook,  driving  four  mills  be¬ 
tween  this  and  the  sea,  yet  it  is  always  brim  full.  On  the  east  side  of  this 
cistern  was  the  ancient  outlet  of  the  water,  by  an  aqueduct  raised  about 
six  yards  from  the  ground,  and  containing  a  channel  one  yard  deep.  But 
this  is  now  stopped  up,  and  dry  ;  the  Turks  having  broke  an  outlet  on  the 
other  side,  deriving  thence  a  stream  for  grinding  theircorn.  An  aqueduct 
now  dry,  is  carried  eastward  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  paces,  and  then 
approaches  the  other  two  cisterns,  of  which  one  is  twelve  and  the  other 
twenty  yards  square.  These  have  each  a  little  channel,  by  which  they 
anciently  rendered  their  waters  into  the  aqueduct ;  and  so  the  united  streams 
of  all  the  three  cisterns  were  carried  together  to  Tyre . The  foun¬ 

tain  of  these  waters  is  as  unknown  as  the  contriver  of  them.  It  is  certain 
from  their  rising  so  high,  they  must  be  brought  from  some  part  of  the 
mountains,  which  are  about  a  league  distant;  and  it  is  as  certain  that  the 
work  was  well  done  at  first,  seeing  it  performs  its  office  so  well,  at  so  great 
a  distance  of  time.” 

Maundrtll' s  Journey  from  Aleppo  to  Jerusalem,  in  1697. 

31* 


366 


TYRE. 


ed  i:  the  daughter  of  Sidon.”  It  was  of  this  city  that  Hiram , 
the  friend  and  coadjutor  of  Solomon  in  the  work  of  the  tern- 
pie,  was  the  noted  king.  The  political  and  commercial  force 
of  the  Tyrians  was  vast,  and  once  irresistible.  When  the 
prophecies  of  Ezekiel  were  uttered,  Tyre  was  at  its  height  of 
opulence  and  power.  The  first  blow  effectually  struck 
against  its  greatness  was  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  who  reduceJ 
to  subjection,  and  ultimately  destroyed  it,  after  a  siege  of 
thirteen  years.  This  city  is  understood  to  have  stood  a  little 
inland,  and  is  usually  spoken  of  as  Old  Tyre.  Not  a  trace 
of  it  remains.  This  agrees  with  Isaiah’s  prophecy — “  The 
burden  of  Tyre.  Howl ,  ye  ships  of  Tarshish :  for  it  is  laid 
waste ,  so  that  there  is  no  house ,  no  entering  in”  The  severity 
with  which  Nebuchadnezzar  treated  the  Old  Tyre,  seems  to 
have  been  provoked  by  the  precaution  long  before  taken  by 
the  Tyrians,  to  establish  themselves  in  an  insular  position, 
more  than  half  a  mile  distant  from  the  shore,  whither  they 
removed  their  wealth,  and  erected  a  strong  city  ;  so  that  when 
after  thirteen  years  of  toilful  enterprize,  he  took  possession  of 
the  old  city,  he  found  little  more  than  its  void  habitations, 
?ind  the  armed  force  placed  there  for  its  defence.  Nebuchad 
nezzar  was  not  then  in  a  state  to  subdue  the  new  city  ;  and 
besides,  the  force  of  his  arms  was  then  turned  towards  Egypt. 

But  the  safety  of  Tyre  was  not  of  long  duration.  The 
power  of  Babylon  again  came  forth  against  it  and  prevailed  : 
and  so  complete  was  the  subjection  of  the  Tyrians,  that  (as 
Josephus  informs  us),  they  received  their  kings  from  Baby¬ 
lon,  and  were  tributaries  to  Babylon.  The  prophet  Isaiah 
had  thus  predicted  : — “  It  shall  come  to  pass  in  that  day,  that 
Tyre  shall  be  forgotten  seventy  years,  according  to  the  days 
of  one  king :  after  the  end  of  seventy  years  shall  Tyre  sing 
as  an  harlot.”*  Here  we  have  a  note  of  time — u  seventy 
yearsf  corresponding  with  the  termination  of  the  Babylonish 
monarchy,  after  which,  by  the  aid  of  Persia,  the  Tyrians 
reassumed  something  like  independence,  and  acquired  con¬ 
siderable  wealth  and  importance  ;  and  then  it  was  that  Tyre 

*  Isaiah  wiii.  15. 


TYRE. 


367 


sang  as  an  har  ot.  Her  final  overthrow  was  yet  to  be  accom 
plished :  and  this  was,  in  a  great  degree,  reserved  for  Alex¬ 
ander  the  Great,  who,  by  a  scheme  of  gigantic  magnitude/ 
reijdered  the  city,  even  in  its  insular  position,  accessible  to 
the  then  usual  mode  of  warfare  and  siege.  In  vain  had  he 
endeavored  to  effect  its  subjugation  by  attacks  made  from  the 
sea  ;  and  it  was  unapproachable  in  any  other  way.  He  then 
conceived  the  stupendous  idea  of  constructing  a  mole,  which 
should  at  once  connect  it  with  the  main  land  ;  and  this  was 
actually  accomplished  by  driving  piles  and  pouring  in  in¬ 
calculable  quantities  of  soil  and  fragments  of  rock  ;  and  it  is 
generally  believed,  partly  on  the  authority  of  ancient  authors, 
that  the  whole  ruins  of  Old  Tyre  were  absorbed  in  this  vast 
enterprize,  and  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  sea — so  realizing 
the  word  of  prophecy — ■“  For  thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  When 
I  shall  make  thee  a  desolate  city,  like  the  cities  that  are  not 
inhabited:  when  1  shall  bring  up  the  deep  upon  thee ,  and  great 

ivaters  shall  cover  thee . I  will  make  thee  a  terror,  and 

thou  shalt  be  no  more  :  though  thou  be  sought  for,  yet  shalt 
thou  never  be  found  again,  saith  the  Lord  God.”*  This 
wonderful  preparation  being  complete,  the  might  of  Alexan¬ 
der  was  actively  directed  against  the  devoted  city  in  every 
form,  by  sea  as  well  as  from  the  mole,  which  rendered  it  as 
accessible  as  a  continental  town  ;  when  after  a  close  siege  of 
seven  months,  the  city  being  also  attacked  with  fire,  a  surren¬ 
der  was  made ;  and  then  was  brought  about  the  terrible  an¬ 
nouncement  of  the  prophet  Zechariah — ■“  And  Tyrus  did 
build  herself  a  strong  hold,  and  heaped  up  silver  as  the  dust, 
and  fine  gold  as  the  mire  of  the  streets.  Behold,  the  Lord 
will  cast  her  out,  and  he  will  smite  her  power  in  the  sea  ; 
and  she  shall  be  devoured  with  fire.”f 

Various  were  the  fortunes  of  Tyre  after  this  fearful  over 
throw.  From  one  dominant  hand  it  passed  to  another,  grad¬ 
ually  declining — till  in  1516,  it  fell  under  the  Ottoman  do¬ 
minion,  where  it  has  remained  until  now — a  scene  of  wretch 
cdness  and  squalid  misery. 

*  Ezekiel  xxvi.  19 — 21. 


t  Zech.  ix.  3,  4;  Ezekiel  xxviii.  18. 


368 


TYRE. 


- And  what  was  the  master-sin,  among  many,  of  Tyre? 

She  had  “said  against  Jerusalem ,  Aha,  she  is  broken, that  was 
.he  gates  of  the  people :  she  is  turned  unto  me :  I  shall  be  re* 
plenished,  now  she  is  laid  waste.”*  This  was  her  sin,  she 
laughed  Jerusalem  to  scorn. 

- “  Therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  Behold,  I  am 

against  thee,  O  Tyrus,  and  will  cause  many  nations  to  come 
up  against  thee,  as  the  sea  causeth  his  waves  to  come  up. 
And  they  shall  destroy  the  walls  of  Tyrus,  and  break  down 
her  towers :  I  will  also  scrape  her  dust  from  her,  and  make 
her  like  the  top  of  a  rock.  It  shall  be  a  place  for  the  spread¬ 
ing  of  nets  in  the  midst  of  the  sea  :  for  I  have  spoken  it,  saith 
the  Lord  God,  and  it  shall  become  a  spoil  to  the  nations.” 
Here  was  her  punishment. 

- Is  it  not  said  of  Jerusalem — “  They  shall  prosper  that 

love  theeV1  What  may  not  nations  and  individuals  fear,  if 
they  have  no  love  for  Israel — for  Jerusalem  ?  Is  there  no¬ 
thing  in  the  fate  of  Tyre,  to  make  men  pause  and  think — 
when  they  look  scornfully  or  even  indifferently  towards  the 
“peculiar  people”  whom  God  hath  chosen  for  himself? 

Tyre  is  remarkable  on  many  other  accounts.  It  was  there 
abouts  that  our  Lord  cast  out  the  unclean  spirit  from  the 
young  daughter  of  the  Syro-Phoenician  woman,  who  pleaded 
so  earnestly  and  so  tenderly. f  It  was  there  too  that  Paul 
found  faithful  disciples,  on  one  occasion  of  his  journeying  to 
Jerusalem  ;  and  in  the  heat  of  the  Diocletian  persecution, 
believers  were  found  there,  who  “  counted  not  their  lives 
dear  unto  them.”  The  Christian  churches  in  Tyre  were 
once  remarkable — especially  the  cathedral  so  celebrated  by 
Eusebius.  As  an  episcopal  see,  Tyre  was  dependent  on  the 
Patriarch  of  Antioch.  The  renowned  William  of  Tyre  was 
its  first  Archbishop.  Several  councils  were  he.d  here  ;  par¬ 
ticularly  that  which  condemned  as  heresies  the  orthodox  opin¬ 
ions  of  Athanasius. 

With  recollections  such  as  these,  how  deeply  interesting 
was  the  first  view  and  the  subsequent  visit  to  Tyre. 

*  Ezekiel  xxvi.  2.  t  Mark  vii.  24 — 30. 


TYRE. 


369 


We  approached  it  by  the  mole  of  Alexander,  which  now 
gives  the  idea  of  having  been  the  natural,  rather  than  ar. 
artificial  approach.  Before  we  reached  the  mole  itself,  we 
passed  over  deep  and  fatiguing  accumulations  of  sand,  partly 
concealing  numerous  ruins  scattered  about  in  sad  and  desolate 
confusion.  Besides  the  slight  remains  of  the  ancient  fortifica¬ 
tions  extending  outwards  to  the  sea,  the  greater  part  of  Tyre 
as  it  is,  consists  of  modern  structures ;  and  there  was  still  a 
slight  effort  at  extending  human  habitations  within  the  walls. 
Extreme  poverty  characterizes  the  place  and  people.  The 
bazaars  are  poor  and  scanty  in  their  provisions.  The  old 
harbor,  which  is  on  the  north,  and  once  received  the  largest 
trading  vessels  of  the  world,  is  now  so  circumscribed  and  filled 
up,  that  only  small  craft  can  enter,  some  few  of  which  were 
lying  at  anchor.  A  few  fragments  of  the  old  harbor  walls 
yet  stand  up  above  the  surface  of  the  sea,  to  show  that  such 
things  were.  The  remains  of  the  church  of  Origen  are  yet 
visible.  It  is  on  the  south,  and  forms  part  of  the  wall.  The 
fragments  which  remain  serve  to  indicate  its  magnitude. 
Pillars  and  capitals  are  to  be  seen  as  they  have  lain  for  ages, 
in  various  parts,  partly  buried  in  the  drifted  sands.  Though 
Christianity  once  flourished  here,  yet  it  has  dwindled  and 
decayed — the  light  is  indeed  dim.  The  little  Christianity 
which  exists,  is  I  fear  but  nominal,  and  the  crescent  gleams 
more  brightly  than  the  cross. 

- What  a  lesson  does  Tyre — even  in  her  present  state, 

address  to  the  hearts  of  thoughtful — aye,  of  thoughtless  men  ! 
When  those  who  are  citizens  of  a  country,  so  highly  honored 
— so  spiritually  privileged — so  distinguished  as  England, 
come  forth  and  gaze  upon  her,  and  remember  how  our  Lord 
himself  said — “  Woe  unto  thee  Chorazin  !  Woe  unto  thee, 
Bethsaida !  for  if  the  mighty  works  which  were  done  in  you, 
had  been  done  in  Tyre  and  Sidon,  they  would  have  repented 
long  ago  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  ;  but,  I  say  unto  you,  It  shall 
be  more  tolerable  for  Tyre  and  Sidon  at  the  day  of  judgment  than 
for  you1,1 — when  they  have  these  awful  words  sounding  in 
their  ears,  as  they  gaze — have  they  not  reason  to  tremble  for 


370 


SAREPTA - SIDON. 


their  country,  lest  her  privileges  be  fataLy  abused — lest  she 
finally  fail  of  giving  glory  to  God,  ana  lest  his  righteous 
judgments  leap  forth  to  the  vindication  of  His  oft-insulted 
majesty  ?  The  woe  has  come  upon  Chorazin  and  Belhsaida. 
The  woe  is  still  upon  Tyre.  Where  may  it  fall  next  ?  Can 
we  not  u  discern  the  smns  of  the  times  ?” 

o 

Resuming  our  journey,  we  proceeded  for  about  three  hours 
almost  entirely  by  the  sea  side,  till  we  reached  a  river  of 
considerable  breadth,  spanned  by  a  solid  bridge,  having  near 
it  the  almost  ruined  village  of  Gasimieh.  The  evening  was 
closing  ;  and  as  we  found  an  agreeable  spot,  pleasantly  shaded 
by  blooming  oleanders,  we  resolved  on  taking  up  our  abode 
there  for  the  night ;  and  by  six  o’clock  on  the  following 
*  morning  proceeded  in  the  direction  of  Sidon.  Almost  mid¬ 
way,  they  pointed  out  to  us,  on  an  elevated  site  eastward,  a 
village  of  some  pretension,  called  Sarfend ,  which  most  travel¬ 
lers  deem  to  be  Sarepta ,  though  some  have  claimed  that  dis¬ 
tinction  for  a  smaller  village  nearer  the  shore,  through  which 
we  passed,  called  Ayun-teen — the  fountain  of  the  fig.  For 
the  former  there  is  a  tradition ;  and  the  Turks  have  erected 
their  mosque  over  the  alleged  site  of  the  widow’s  house,  where 
the  prophet  Elijah  dwelt.  We  did  not  go  out  of  our  way  to 
visit  it ;  but  pressed  onwards  towards  Sidon,  staying  only  a 
few  minutes  at  a  delicious  shady  fountain  to  refresh  our 
horses,  and  get  a  draught  of  cool  water  for  ourselves.  When 
we  were  within  about  an  hour  of  Sidon,  we  halted  under  the 
shade  of  some  stately  tamarisk  trees  for  our  usual  repose, 
having  ridden  for  upwards  of  six  hours  in  the  intense  heat  of 
the  midday  sun.  We  remounted  at  five,  and  another  hour 
brought  us  to  the  gates  of  the  city. 

Approaching  from  the  south,  it  presented  a  striking  picture; 
but  not  such  as  to  give  an  idea  of  its  real  magnitude,  or  to  be 
compared  with  that  on  the  north  and  north-east.  It  occupies 
an  elevated  site,  and  projects  far  into  the  sea.  On  the  east  it 
has  a  bold  fortified  wall,  over  which  the  minarets  stand  up 
gracefully.  To  describe  Sidon,  as  to  its  interior,  would  be 
only  to  repeat  the  description  of  most  Turkish  towns.  Its 


SIDON. 


371 


bazaars,  however,  are  pleasantly  shaded ;  and  there  seemed 
greater  stir  and  activity  than  we  had  noticed  in  other  places. 
Amidst  the  modern  buildings,  of  which  there  are  a  far  greater 
number,  and  upon  a  better  scale  than  at  Tyre — we  noticed 
many  of  the  remains  of  ancient  splendor — such  as  fragments 
of  old  masonry — columns — entablatures,  &c.  We  loitered 
through  the  miserable  streets,  but  did  not  dismount  or  make 
any  lengthened  stay.  We  found  an  abundance  of  grapes  and 
water  melons,  of  which  the  servants  procured  a  supply,  and 
also  some  small  bunches  of  the  most  fragrant  jessamine 
flowers.  The  blossoms  were  much  larger  than  those  pro¬ 
duced  in  Europe,  and  their  fragrance  exceedingly  powerful. 

We  quitted  the  city  by  a  gate  opening  to  the  north-east, 
bringing  us  immediately  to  the  sands  of  the  sea  shore,  upon 
which  the  brisk  waves  of  the  Mediterranean  were  rolling 
gracefully.  It  was  then  that  Sidon  appeared  in  its  beauty, 
and  in  this  point  of  view  it  is  beautiful  indeed.  The  eastern 
side  is  enclosed  by  fine  plantations  of  vigorous  growth — 
cypresses,  figs,  tamarisks,  and  palms,  which  hide  much  of  the 
poor  and  ruinous  architecture,  but  exhibit  the  summits  of 
some  high  fortifications  and  the  minarets  of  two  mosques. 
Stretching  far  into  the  bay,  stands  a  bold  fortress,  founded  on 
a  rock,  connected  with  the  main  land  and  the  city  by  a  bridge 
of  many  arches  ;  beyond  which  the  extent  of  the  city  may 
be  seen.  These  are  said  to  be  the  work  of  the  age  of  the 
crusades.  From  hence  several  ledges  of  Mount  Lebanon  are 
distinctly  visible.  I  do  not  know  of  a  finer  maritime  position 
any  where  than  that  so  gracefully  occupied  by  the  fallen 
Sidon.  It  is  all  that  the  most  picturesque  fancy  could  desire. 

Sidon  was  once  the  abode  of  magnificence  and  luxury ; 
and  even  in  our  Lord’s  days  it  was  proverbial  for  this,  as 
appears  from  the  spirit  of  his  allusion  to  it.  From  a  passage 
in  the  book  of  Genesis,*  it  is  probable  that  the  son  of  Canaan 
was  the  founder  of  the  ancient  city.  In  the  time  of  Joshua 
(b.  c.  1445),  it  appears  to  have  arrived  at  the  height  of  its 
national  importance  and  glory.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 

*  Genesis  x.  15,  19. 


372 


SIDON. 


Sidonians  supplied  the  first  navigators  in  the  old  world. 
Their  ships  not  only  commanded  the  Mediterranean,  but 
carried  on  an  extensive  traffic  with  the  British  Isles,  in  tin 
and  other  commodities  ;  and  they  had,  moreover,  colonies  in 
Africa,  and  settlements  in  Europe.  They  were  a  gifted  and 
ingenious  people,  and  excelled  not  only  in  the  fine  arts,  bu 
in  various  kinds  of  manufacture.  The  glass  of  Sidon — the 
purple  of  Tyre  and  exquisitely  fine  linen,  were  the  products 
of  their  country,  and  of  their  own  invention.  They  had  a 
remarkable  skill  in  working  of  metals,  timber,  and  stone: 
and  the  share  they  had  in  the  work  of  the  temple  of  Solomon, 
gives  proof  of  the  extent  to  which  their  talents  had  been 
cultivated. 

Concerning  Sidon — Jehovah  hath  spoken ;  and  his  word 
has  been  fulfilled.  Sidon  is  even  now  another  witness  to  the 
truth  of  prophecy.  u  Again  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  unto 
me,  saying,  Son  of  man,  set  thy  face  against  Zidon,  and 
prophecy  against  it,  and  say,  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God ; 
Behold  I  am  against  thee,  O  Zidon  ;  and  I  will  be  glorified 
in  the  midst  of  thee  ;  and  they  shall  know  that  I  am  the  Lord, 
when  I  shall  have  executed  judgments  in  her,  and  shall  be 
sanctified  in  her.  For  I  will  send  unto  her  pestilence,  and 
blood  into  her  streets  ;  and  the  wounded  shall  be  judged  in 
the  midst  of  her  by  the  sword  upon  her  on  every  side ;  and 
they  shall  know  that  I  am  the  Lord.”*  It  was  upwards  of 
three  centuries  before  the  time  of  Christ,  that  this  prophecy 
was  signally  fulfilled  by  the  Persians,  under  Ochus ;  from 
which  time  to  the  present,  she  has  never  lifted  up  her  head. 
The  u  Great  Sidon”  speaks  volumes  to  the  men  of  this  genera¬ 
tion,  from  the  littleness  to  which  the  judgments  of  God  have 
brought  her.  Her  future  condition  will  depend  much  upon 
the  ultimate  fate  of  the  Ottoman  empire  and  the  adjustment 
of  the  questions  (should  they  admit  of  adjustment)  between 
the  contending  tribes  of  the  Lebanon — the  Maronites  and 
Druses  ;  and  these  are  all  in  the  hand  of  God.  It  is  probable 
that  the  lapse  of  a  few  years  may  bring  about  results  that  will 

*  Ezekiel  xxviii.  20 — 23. 


NABY-YOUNES. 


373 


be  felt  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Syria  and  Pales¬ 
tine — all  intimately  connected  with  the  hope  and  prospect 
of  Israel.  Oh  !  what  a  restitution  of  all  things  is  now  await¬ 
ing  these  scenes  of  desolation  and  decay. 

We  pursued  our  course  three  hours  along  the  sands  of  the 
sea  shore  (the  coasts  of  Syro-Phcenicia),  with  the  waves 
washing  the  hoofs  of  our  horses.  Frequently  turning  back 
to  gaze  upon  the  city,  we  enjoyed  one  of  the  most  charming 
pictures  imaginable.  The  ocean  assumed  its  most  joyous  as¬ 
pect  as  it  bounded  towards  the  shore,  while  the  ridge  of  low 
hills  eastward  were  bathed  in  the  rich  hues  of  the  west;  and 
Sidon  stood  forth  majestically — robed  in  the  coming  mist  of 
the  evening.  Many  parties  of  Turks,  Syrians,  and  Albanian 
soldiers  met  us — some  bringing  melons  and  other  fruits  to  the 
bazaars,  others  loitering  in  oriental  indolence,  and  all  of  them 
picturesque  in  their  attire,  as  the  evening  sun  brought  out  the 
rich  colors  of  their  flowing  garments.  Leaving  the  coast,  we 
struck  off  in  a  north-easterly  direction  to  a  steep,  hilly  pass, 
which  bid  fair  to  be  troublesome,  if  not  dangerous  for  a  night 
march.  The  darkness  overtook  us,  as  usual,  immediately 
after  sunset ;  but  soon  we  were  cheered  by  the  newly-risen 
moon,  in  the  light  of  which  we  were  enabled  to  make  our 
way  in  safety  for  about  three  hours  more  ;  and  at  about  eleven 
o’clock  found  ourselves  again  on  the  sands  of  the  shore, 
where  we  determined  to  halt  for  the  night  near  the  khan  of 
Naby  Younes — a  miserable  hovel.  We  were  invited  to  take 
up  our  abode  within  its  walls,  but  we  had  lived  too  long  in 
tents  to  forego  their  comforts  for  such  an  abode  of  vermin  and 
filth  as  a  khan.  Moreover,  we  had  reason  to  believe  our 
own  linen  walls  were  the  safer  of  the  two.  The  khan  was 
surrounded  by  palms,  and  had  a  small  garden  of  orange  trees 
connected  with  it.  It  was  a  charming  spot  for  our  encamp¬ 
ment  ;  and  the  hoarse  voice  of  the  sea  sang  our  midnight 
lullaby. 

u  Naby  Younes ”  signifies — the  Prophet  Jonah.  And  there 
;s  a  Mahommedan  tradition,  that  the  scene  of  our  encamp 
ment  was  that  in  which  Jonah  was  cast  ashore  after  having 

32 


374 


ALBANIAN  SOLDIERS,  ETC. 


Deen  voided  by  the  whale.  There  is  a  tradition — Mahomme- 
dan,  Jewish,  or  Popish,  for  every  part  of  the  Holy  Land  ;  but 
happily,  we  have  something  more  than  tradition  to  guide  us 
in  its  most  important  localities. 

At  seven  o’clock  on  the  following  morning,  we  were  again 
in  marching  trim — having  Beyrout  as  the  next  place  of  desti¬ 
nation.  W e  had  calculated  upon  a  journey  of  about  six  hours  j 
but  on  account  of  the  depth  of  the  sands  over  which  we  had 
to  pass,  and  the  difficulties  of  the  rocky  parts  of  the  road,  it 
was  nearly  eight.  Soon  after  quitting  Naby  Younes,  we 
reached  an  extremely  picturesque  village,  through  which  a 
bold  stream  coursed  its  way  to  the  sea,  surrounded  by  vine¬ 
yards  and  extensive  plantations  of  mulberry  trees,  cultivated 
in  a  peculiar  manner  for  the  nurture  of  silk  worms.  En¬ 
camped  in  various  parts  of  the  village  was  a  large  regiment 
of  Albanian  soldiers,  in  the  service  of  the  Sultan — as  wild  and 
ferocious  a  set  as  one  could  desire  to  look  on.  Some  were  loi¬ 
tering  about  in  parties  with  their  guns  :  others  stretched  along 
in  their  tents — smoking — laughing — shouting  ;  and  their  ap 
pearance  and  bearing  were  such  as  to  make  me  not  unthank 
ful  when  we  had  fairly  got  out  of  their  reach.  We  expe 
rienced  no  molestation  whatever  ;  but  a  few  not  very  cour 
teous  words  passed  between  some  of  them  and  our  escort 
The  usual  costume  of  the  Albanian  soldiers  is  extremely  pic 
turesque — a  crimson  tarbouch  for  the  head — an  embroidered 
jacket  coming  down  to  the  waist — a  white  kilt  reaching  to 
the  knees  and  hanging  in  thick  folds,  and  white  leggings  fitted 
to  the  shape  of  the  leg.  A  belt  round  the  waist  carried  their 
pistols  and  daggers. 

After  about  three  hours  we  reached  a  khan,  where  we  dis¬ 
mounted  for  half  an  hour,  and  refreshed  ourselves  with  a  cup 
of  coffee — that  ever  ready  restorative,  the  worth  of  which  we 
scarcely  understand  in  England.  Here  we  found  a  motley 
party  assembled — Turks — Albanians — Syrians — Bedaween, 
in  eager  talk,  discussing  the  merits  of  sundry  weapons — mus¬ 
kets,  sabres,  &c.  Many  an  inquiring  glance  was  cast  towards 
the  strangers  as  we  sat  by  sipping  our  coffee,  and  as  Hasse- 


ARRIVAL  AT  BEYROUT. 


375 


nein  joined  in  the  gossip,  and  I  suppose  related  some  of  out 
adventures.  In  about  three  hours  more  we  reached  another 
khan — kept,  as  I  learnt,  by  a  Druse  Christian,  who  received 
us  civilly,  and  gave  us  a  water  melon  and  a  cup  of  coffee, 
under  the  shade  of  a  fine  spreading  mulberry  tree.  Here  I 
first  saw  the  peculiar  costume  of  the  Druse  women,  the  most 
remarkable  feature  of  which  is  the  Tantour ,  or  horn,  made 
generally  of  white  metal,  embossed,  and  so  fixed  on  the  head 
as  to  give  an  idea  of  the  fabled  unicorn.  Over  this  is  thrown 
a  thin  white  veil,  falling  over  the  shoulders  and  lower  parts 
of  the  person.  Singular  as  the  appearance  may  be,  it  is,  after 
all,  not  ungraceful.  It  is  worn  by  all  the  Druse  women,  and 
is  to  be  seen  constantly  about  the  villages  of  the  Lebanon. 
Another  hour  brought  us  over  an  extremely  fatiguing  way 
— sandy,  and  consisting  of  perpetual  undulations.  At  length, 
with  the  range  of  Lebanon  stretching  out  before  us,  and  a 
lovely  valley  of  olive  plantations — cool  and  refreshing,  we 
reached  the  steep  chalky  pass  which  leads  down  to  Beyrout ; 
and  beneath  us — with  the  charming  bay  to  the  left,  lay  the 
city  itself,  with  its  domes  and  minarets  glittering  in  the  sun. 
It  was  a  superb  scene.  Words  cannot  describe  the  magnifi¬ 
cence  of  the  range  of  Lebanon,  with  its  wondrous  combina¬ 
tions  of  light  and  shade — hue  after  hue,  and  tint  after  tint — 
changing  like  the  colors  of  the  chameleon. 

Weary  enough  with  our  journey,  it  was  delightful  to  find 
ourselves  within  the  walls  of  Beyrout ;  and  so — threading  our 
way,  as  rapidly  as  possible  from  street  to  street,  we  soon 
reached  that  abode  of  fleas  and  vermin — the  Locanda  of 
Giovanni  Baptisti,  which,  for  want  of  a  better,  we  were  con¬ 
tent  to  make  our  home ;  and  it  was  not  long,  ere  a  tolerable 
dinner  in  the  Italian  style,  and  a  bottle  of  claret — cooled  with 
the  snows  of  Lebanon,  effected  for  us  the  restoration  which 
we  needed.  The  temperature  was  intensely  high.  The 
room  in  which  we  dined  was  open  at  the  top — that  is,  it  had 
no  roof ;  but  a  canvass  covering  kept  out  the  beams  of  the 
sun,  and  admitted  whatever  breezes  might  be  wafted  over 
from  the  sea.  The  sound  of  the  muezzin  from  the  mosques 


376 


BEYROUT. 


near  at  hand,  calling”  the  faithful  to  prayer,  again  reminded 
us,  by  its  shrill,  nasal  quaverings,  that  we  were  once  more  in 
a  Turkish  city. 

Oh  the  musquitoes,  and  the  various  other  winged  and 
unwinged  tormentors  in  these  warm  regions!  I  had  a  woeful 
night  of  it,  instead  of  the  rest  I  craved,  after  the  exhausting 
toils  of  travel.  The  incessant  yelling  and  barking  of  dogs,  as 
usual,  made  night  itself  wakeful ;  but  I  think  I  could  have 
slept  on  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  but  for  those  insinuating 
insects  who  luxuriate  in  European  blood.  I  once  asked  Has- 
senein  why  they  never  attacked  the  Arabs.  “Oh,  Sir,” — said 
he — “  our  skins  are  too  sour  for  them.”  The  musquitoes  are 
good  judges  in  such  matters.  On  the  flat  roof  of  the  house 
were  several  beds  constructed  for  such  guests  as  chose  to 
occupy  them.  We  were  content  with  such  as  we  could  find 
below — poor  enough  to  be  sure,  and  with  musquito  curtains 
so  full  of  holes  as  to  tempt  the  creatures  they  were  intended 
to  baffle. 

The  situation  of  Beyrout  is  admirable ;  and  the  view  from 
the  heights  on  the  south  and  south-west,  comprising  the  city 
itself — the  fine  bay,  and  the  noble  range  of  Lebanon,  is  all 
that  the  most  tasteful  mind  could  desire.  But  certainly — 
Beyrout  is  seen  best  at  a  distance.  Like  all  oriental  towns,  it 
is  sadly  filthy;  and  in  point  of  temperature,  is  usually  deemed 
one  of  the  hottest  in  Syria.  This  arises  from  its  low  position, 
and  the  want  of  land  breezes.  Though  Beyrout  occupies  a 
distinguished  place  in  ancient  history,  yet  there  are  now  but 
few  traces  of  its  former  importance.  It  has  quite  the  air  of  a 
modern  Turkish  town.  Its  population  is  estimated  at  about 
fifteen  thousand,  of  whom  two-thirds  are  said  to  be  Christians 
in  communion  with  the  Greek  and  Roman  churches.  The 
harbor,  though  bold  and  beautiful,  is  bad  ;  and  so  abounding 
in  sunk  rocks,  that  ships  are  usually  anchored  at  more  than  a 
mile  from  the  shore.  The  admixture  of  many  European 
merchants  and  their  dependants  with  the  native  population, 
helps  to  give  an  appearance  of  business-like  activity  to  the 


LEBANON. 


377 


streets,  particularly  those  which  are  immediately  connected 
with  the  quays  and  wharfs. 

"  His  countenance  is  at  Lebanon.”*  Such  is  the  figure  used 
by  Solomon  to  indicate  the  dignity,  beauty,  and  majesty  of  the 
“  Beloved” — Jesus  the  great  head  of  the  Church.  They  who 
have  gazed  upon  Lebanon  from  the  heights  about  Beyrout, 
and  marked  its  varied  aspect,  as  the  light  and  shade  throw 
their  garniture  of  beauty  around  it,  must  have  felt  how  noble 
an  image  it  is — how  fitting  in  its  application.  Lebanon  is  a 
little  world  in  itself ;  and  the  history  of  its  tribes,  its  religious 
and  superstitious  institutions,  its  warfares  and  reverses  of 
fortune,  might  well  occupy  a  much  larger  volume  than  this. 
It  is  still  abundantly  populated,  notwithstanding  the  ravages 
of  the  Druse  and  Maronite  war  ;f  and  its  fertility  is  very 
great,  by  means  of  the  terraced  manner  of  cultivation  which 
has  so  generally  prevailed  in  the  East.  From  Beyrout,  the 
eye  traces  numberless  villages  scattered  about  even  on  the 
higher  ridges,  amidst  forests  of  pine  and  majestic  oaks.  The 
loftiest  peak  of  Lebanon  is  called  Sanin  ;  and  is  computed  at 
ten  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level  There  is  an  lndescriba- 
ble  air  of  grandeur  and  repose  pervading  this  grand  mass  of 
mountain,  as  the  eye  ranges  over  its  graceful  outline  and 
dwells  upon  the  wonderful  filling  up  of  the  picture.  Bu 
what  must  Lebanon  have  been,  when  the  prophet  Isaiah 
referred  to  it  as  an  image  to  illustrate  his  announcement  of 
gospel-blessing  and  gospel-glory — “  The  wilderness  and  the 
solitary  place  shall  be  glad  for  them  ;  and  the  desert  shall  re¬ 
joice,  and  blossom  as  the  rose.  It  shall  blossom  abundantly, 
and  rejoice  even  with  joy  and  singing;  the  glory  of  Lebanon 

shall  be  given  unto  it . they  shall  see  the  glory  of  the 

Lord  and  the  excellency  of  our  God.”j:  It  must  have  been 
far-famed  from  an  early  age  of  the  world’s  history,  as  intima¬ 
ted  in  the  eagerly  expressed  desire  of  Moses — “  O  Lord  God 
. I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  over  and  see  the  good  land  that  is 

*  Canticles  v.  15. 

t  The  population  of  Lebanon  is  estimated  at  two  hundred  thousand.  It 
this  be  correct,  it  exceeds  the  population  of  all  the  rest  of  Palestine. 

t  Isaiah  xxxv.  1,  2. 


32* 


378 


THE  TRIBES  OF  LEBANON. 


beyond  Jordan,  that  goodly  mountain ,  and  [ even ]  Lebanon"* 
If  it  were  not  still  magnificently  beautiful,  yet,  Lebanon 
would  be  an  object  of  untiring  interest  to  the  traveller  who 
loves  bis  Bible,  and  delights  in  pondering  its  marvellous 
history. 

The  two  principle  tribes  who  inhabit  Lebanon,  are  the 
Maronites — in  communion  with  the  See  of  Rome,  though  not 
entirely  accordant  in  all  particulars ;  and  the  Druses — whose 
religion  is  an  unsearchable,  secret  mysticism.  The  feud 
between  them  is  deadly  and  devastating  ;  and  during  the  late 
war,  it  was  the  policy  of  the  Turkish  government  to  supply 
them  both  with  ammunition,  in  the  hope  of  reducing  their 
aggregate  numbers  to  a  more  manageable  scale.  The  former 
are  of  Syrian  origin ;  and  though  found  in  most  parts  of 
Lebanon,  yet  are  chiefly  congregated  in  the  central  regions. 
They  speak  Arabic  in  common  with  all  the  inhabitants  of 
Syria  and  Palestine,  but  write  it  generally  in  the  Syriac 
character.  This  is  the  result  of  the  subjection  of  the  whole 
country  to  the  Ottoman  empire,  whose  policy  it  was  to  make 
their  own  a  universal  language.  An  expedient  of  atrocious 
cruelty  was  resorted  to  for  this  purpose.  The  Turkish  con¬ 
querors  cut  out  the  tongues  of  the  aged  inhabitants,  sparing 
only  the  children,  the  more  effectually  to  prevent  the  propaga 
tion  of  the  Syriac  language  which  they  desired  utterly  to  ex¬ 
tinguish.  The  Druses  occupy  Gebel  Sannin,  that  is,  the 
southern  part  of  the  mountain-chain,  including  Kesrouan  and 
Deir  el  Khammar ,  the  head  quarters  of  their  chief,  the  Emir 
Beshir.  Like  most  ancient  mythologies  their’s  contains  ari 
idea  of  the  incarnation  of  the  Deity,  in  the  person  of  Hakim, 
a  celebrated  khaliph  of  Egypt ;  and  it  is  said  that  they  are 
looking  for  his  return  in  a  glorified  state,  to  perpetuate  their 
superstitions.!  Indeed,  throughout  the  East  (may  we  not  say 
the  world  ?)  there  is  a  prevailing  expectation  of  the  same 
character — a  looking  forth — an  eager  expectation  of  the  advent 
of  some  great  and  mighty  being,  who  shall  perpetuate  and 

*  Deuteronomy  iii.  24,  25. 

f  See  Vansleb’s  Present  State  of  Egypt,  pp.  170,  171. 


THE  TRIBES  OF  LEBANON - ROUTE  TO  BAALBEC.  379 

make  universal  the  particular  system  or  superstition  to  which 
each  section  of  the  human  family  is  addicted.  It  is  the  dis¬ 
tinguished  privilege  of  the  Church  of  Christ  to  entertain  an 
expectation  grounded  on  the  sure  announcements  of  the  pro¬ 
phetic  word.  It  is  a  certain  light,  issuing  out  of  the  fulness 
of  Him  who  is  “  light,”  that  guides  our  spiritual  vision,  and 
directs  us  to  the  true  object — to  one  who  hath  said, il  Behold  l 
make  all  things  new.”  A  similarly  prevalent  expectation  was 
the  precursor  of  His  first  advent. 

Besides  the  Maronites  and  the  Druses,  there  are  two  other 
important  tribes — namely,  the  Meteualis,  who  live  south  of  the 
Maronites,  and  belong  to  the  Persian  sect  of  Mahommedans, 
called  Shiites  ;  and  the  Anzairies,  who  dwell  northward  of  the 
Maronites,  and  are  descended  from  the  ancient  Pagan  race  of 
Syria.  Both  these  tribes  are  said  to  entertain  degrading  super¬ 
stitions,  based  partly  upon  the  Koran,  and  partly  upon  Egyp¬ 
tian  mythologies. 

After  resting  for  a  day — if  rest  it  might  be  called,  amidst 
the  heat  and  incessant  clamor  of  Beyrout — we  set  out,  on  the 
twenty-second  of  July,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  the  remains 
of  Baalbec  and  the  Cedars  of  Lebanon.  We  were  obliged  to 
forego  our  intention  of  reaching  Damascus.  The  route  for 
which  we  were  prepared,  lay.  over  the  ridge  of  Lebanon. 
Between  Beyrout  and  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  we  passed 
along  roads  of  sand,  often  deep  enough  to  be  inconvenient  for 
the  horses  ;  and  on  all  sides  were  large  plantations  of  mulberry 
trees,  cultivated  for  the  maintenance  of  silk  worms.  These 
plantations  are  hedged  in  by  rows  of  the  prickly  pear,  the 
fruit  of  which  was  then  ripe.  The  Arabs  eat  it  abundantly  : 
indeed,  it  is  one  of  their  principal  articles  of  sustenance  during 
the  season.  It  grows  with  a  thorny  skin,  and  requires,  when 
prepared  for  food,  to  be  handled  with  dexterity,  or  the  hand 
may  be  severely  wounded.  The  flavor  of  it  is  something  like 
a  fresh  fig,  but  mawkish.  It  wants  more  acid  to  make  it 
agreeable  to  a  European  palate. 

In  about  an  hour  we  began  the  ascent  of  Lebanon ;  and 
having  reached  an  elevation  sufficient  to  command  a  view  of 


380 


ROUTE  TOWARDS  BAALBEC. 


Beyrout  and  the  surrounding  country,  the  picture  was  charm¬ 
ing  in  the  extreme.  Palm  groves,  mulberry  forests,  vineyards, 
convents,  and  cottage  habitations,  combined  to  produce  such 
an  effect  as  cannot  easily  be  forgotten  ;  and  the  blue  waters 
of  the  Mediterranean  sparkled  in  the  distance.  The  passes 
of  Lebanon  at  length  became  very  fatiguing  and  difficult; 
and  required  that  we  should  keep  our  seats  on  horseback 
with  great  firmness.  We  were  on  the  high  road — the  an¬ 
cient  one,  to  Damascus.  The  mountainous  formation  is  very 
bold,  yet  graceful  ;  and  villages,  occupying  steep  positions, 
are  scattered  in  all  directions.  At  noon  we  rested  in  a  mul¬ 
berry  grove,  in  front  of  a  miserable  khan,  about  which  were 
gathered  many  of  the  shepherds  with  their  flocks.  Refreshed 
by  the  savory  fare  of  our  clever  cook  Abd’lawahyed  (who 
could  contrive  a  welcome  meal  out  of  a  very  few  simples), 
and  having  taken  a  quiet  nap,  we  resumed  our  march,  forti¬ 
fied  against  future  toils  and  difficulties.  We  continued  till 
eleven  o’clock  at  night,  pausing  only  for  a  short  time  to  re¬ 
adjust  our  baggage.  Some  parts  of  our  route  were  really  for¬ 
midable,  the  more  so  as  the  twilight  gathered  round  us,  and 
afterwards  when  the  moon  gave  its  uncertain  light.  The 
declivities  down  which  we  passed  were  sometimes  so  fearfully 
steep  and  precipitous — the  ascents  so  abrupt,  and  frequently 
so  like  the  sloping  roof  of  a  slated  house,  that  as  I  sat  on  my 
horse,  I  positively  wondered  how  I  was  borne  along  so  safely. 
We  made  no  false  steps.  In  one  place,  however,  I  was  glad 
to  dismount  and  trust  to  my  own  hands  and  knees,  while  my 
horse  gaily  followed  at  his  ease.  We  were  excessively  weary 
at  the  end  of  this  day’s  journey  ;  but  happily  had  mastered 
the  main  difficulties  of  the  way,  and  pitched  the  tents  for  the 
night  in  a  field  belonging  to  a  ruinous  Maronite  khan,  on  the 
eastern  brow  of  Lebanon,  from  whence,  next  morning,  we 
could  look  down  into  the  vale  of  Bekaa  (possibly  the  “valley 
of  Bacav * — both  words  signifying  the  “  valley  of  mulberries”), 
a  broad  expanse  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  north  and  south, 
and  many  miles  in  breadth,  dotted  over  with  villages,  and 

*  Psalm  lxxxiv.  6. 


ROUTE  TOWARDS  BAALBEC. 


381 


skirted  on  the  east  by  Anti-Libanus,  showing  in  a  south-east¬ 
erly  direction,  Gebel  el  Sheikh  (Mount  Hermon),  with  its 
snowy  peaks.  This  plain  is  the  Ccele-Syria  of  antiquity. 

During  our  afternoon  ride — about  an  hour  before  sunse^ 
we  saw  congregated  in  a  deep  valley,  large  masses  of  clouds 
connected  with  others  resting  on  the  surrounding  summits. 
The  low  beams  of  the  sun  illuminated  them  in  a  very  re¬ 
markable  manner.  There  were  no  clouds  upon  the  face  of 
the  sky.  While  the  sun  was  setting  they  extended  them¬ 
selves  on  all  sides  and  advanced  rapidly  upon  us,  till  we  were 
completely  enveloped,  and  surrounded  as  it  were  with  the 
temperature  of  autumn.  When  the  sun  gave  forth  his  last 
gorgeous  rays,  the  clouds  seemed,  like  organized  masses,  to 
march  away  from  side  to  side,  taking  up  their  position  as  for 
the  night,  with  the  sun-glow  resting  upon  their  sides  and 
summits.  There  they  stood  like  Alpine  heights,  and  to  all 
appearance  as  firm — a  new  mountain-region  towering  above 
the  mightiness  of  Lebanon.  It  was  what  the  poet  Coleridge 
called  M  Cloud-land.”  In  about  an  hour  after  sunset,  the 
darkness  was  dense  indeed  ;  but  as  we  passed  on,  with  a  bold 
peak  of  Lebanon  before  us — a  dark — black  mass,  suddenly 
the  moon  rose  up  from  behind,  and  stood  like  a  brilliant 
beacon-light  to  guide  us.  During  the  rest  of  our  journey  she 
left  us  not  for  a  moment,  and  so  illuminated  the  wonderful 
mountain-passes,  that  we  seemed  to  be  journeying  in  fairy¬ 
land — the  world  of  dreams.  In  this  way  we  reached  the 
place  of  encampment,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Lebanon. 
Hassenein  professed  that  he  saw  a  wolf  steal  along  before 
him,  as  he  was  a  little  in  advance ;  but  before  he  could  make 
ready,  present  and  fire,  the  creature  scampered  down  a  valley. 

We  slept  soundly  on  Lebanon  ;  and  when  we  arose  with 
the  early  morning,  the  scene  before  us  was  very  charming. 
The  place  encampment  was  on  a  high  elevation ;  and 
there — in  front  stood  the  range  of  Anti-Libanus,  rose-tinted, 
and  shaped  somewhat  like  the  mountains  of  Moab.  The 
snows  of  Hermon  sparkled  in  the  sunlight.  At  about,  six 
o’clock  we  began  to  descend  towards  the  vale  of  Bekaa  ,  and 


382 


THE  BEKAA - NABEY-NOAH - NABEY-SHEETH. 


as  the  way  was  easy,  we  reached  it  in  little  more  than  an 
hour  and  half.  We  met  several  parties  of  Arabs  and  Syrians, 
with  their  laden  asses  bearing  various  merchandize,  from 
Damascus ;  for  hereabouts  the  road  thither  bends  off  to  the 
right,  and  runs  over  Anti-Libanus ;  while  the  way  towards 
Baalbec  is  to  the  left.  We  continued  along  the  plain  north¬ 
ward,  with  the  magnificent  heights  of  Lebanon  westward. 
There  lay  the  snow-wreaths  around  its  towering  summit,  from 
whence  is  procured  that  perpetual  abundance  of  ice  which 
enables  the  poorest  man  in  Beyrout  to  cool  his  frequent 
draught  of  water  or  sherbet,  and  the  richest  his  wine-cup. 
The  plain  or  valley  of  Bekaa  is  but  little  cultivated,  except 
in  small  patches  around  the  many  villages.  It  abounds  in 
springs  and  fountains  of  delicious  water  ;  and  though  yielding 
only  thistles  and  other  such-like  wild  produce,  on  which  the 
sheep,  camels,  and  neat  cattle  browse,  attended  by  parties 
of  Bedaween,  yet,  like  the  rich  plain  of  Esdraelon,  it  is  a  soil 
which  would  respond  to  every  effort  of  agriculture  in  an 
astonishing  manner.  We  passed  a  rather  extensive  village, 
in  which  is  an  ancient  tomb,  called  Nabey-Noah  decorated  in 
the  usual  Turkish  form,  traditionally  said  to  mark  the  burial- 
place  of  the  patriarch  Noah.  Not  far  from  this,  is  another 
village  called  Nabey-Sheeth — so  called  after  Seth,  the  son  of 
Adam.  I  was  indisposed  during  this  part  of  the  journey, 
and  unequal  to  any  effort  beyond  that  of  ordinary  travelling ; 
and  did  not  go  out  of  the  line  of  march  to  visit  either  place. 
Baalbec  was  upwards  of  eight  hours  distant  from  the  place 
of  our  previous  night’s  encampment ;  and  it  was  for  nearly 
two  hours  before  reaching  it,  that  we  were  able  to  descry 
something  like  a  tower  which  indicated  the  spot.  The  tower 
by  and  by  assumed  a  different  form — it  was  an  elevation  of 
six  noble  columns,  occupying  a  lofty  position  amidst  the  sur¬ 
rounding  ruins,  which  then  appeared  very  extensive  and 
massive.  Between  seven  and  eight  we  were  encamped  on 
the  eastern  side  of  these  celebrated  remains ;  and  when  the 
moon  rose,  they  presented  one  of  the  most  charming  pictures 
I  ever  beheld;  but  I  was  too  weary  and  worn  to  enjoy  it; 


BAALBEC. 


38a 


and  soon  betook  myself  to  my  couch  for  the  night,  after  drink¬ 
ing  abundantly  of  the  clear  cool  waters  which  flow  profusely 
round  the  walls  of  Baalbec,  and  gladden  with  their  joyous 
music  the  weary  traveller  during  every  wakeful  hour  of  the 
night.  The  tents  were  pitched  in  a  fine  grove  of  fig  trees. 
Our  horses  were  tethered  around  us ;  and  soon  sleep  cast  her 
mantle  over  the  wanderers  in  a  far  land. 

In  the  morning,  great  numbers  of  the  wild  and  picturesque 
inhabitants  of  Baalbec  surrounded  the  encampment  to  recon¬ 
noitre  ;  and  with  prying  curiosity  glanced  at  every  body  and 
every  thing  both  within  and  outside  the  tents.  Hassenein 
being  a  great  gossip,  made  many  acquaintances  among  the 
loiterers.  Though  many  travellers  have  been  molested,  and 
compelled  to  submit  to  large  demands  in  the  form  of  Back - 
sheech ,  yet  we  suffered  no  annoyance  beyond  the  characteris¬ 
tic  curiosity  of  the  people — a  matter  easy  enough  to  bear  after 
having  travelled  thus  far. 

I  cannot  venture  on  a  minute  description  of  Baalbec.  It 
would  demand  too  large  a  space  ;  and  even  then  would  be 
scarcely  intelligible  without  many  drawings  and  diagrams. 
My  first  impression  of  it  was  received  during  a  brief  moon¬ 
light  ramble  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival ;  and  it  left  in  my 
mind  a  sense  of  overpowering  vastness — a  sense  which  was 
not  by  any  means  diminished  on  the  following  morning,  even 
though  the  shadowy,  dreamy  aspect  of  moonlight  had  passed 
away.  The  first  thing  that  arrested  my  attention  was  the 
positive  state  of  “  tumbled  ruin”  in  which  the  greater  part  of 
Baal’s  Temple  lay.  It  does  not  appear  like  a  thing  which 
has  gradually  mouldered  under  the  decaying  sweep  of  ages, 
but  as  if  Jehovah  had  breathed  upon  it  with  indignation,  and 
its  submissive  masses  had  crashed  downward  at  His  bidding. 
One  could  almost  fancy  its  destruction  to  have  been  the  work 
of  an  hour.  All  its  parts  are  of  gigantic,  yet  most  graceful 
proportion,  and  breathe  a  noble  testimony  to  the  magnificence 
of  ancient  genius.  Column  and  capital — frieze  and  cornice 
— roof-stone  and  entablature — all  lie  in  dire  confusion,  yet  as 
fresh  almost,  as  if  the  artist’s  chisel  had  but  just  wrought  out 


384 


BAALBEC. 


the  conceptions  of  a  delicate  fancy,  to  perpetuate  them  in 
marble.  Enough,  both  of  the  Great  Temple  and  the  Tem¬ 
ple  of  the  Sun,  remains,  to  convey  an  accurate  notion  of  the 
whole  design,  when  once  the  mind  receives  the  leading  idea — 
without  which  all  is  but  confusion — doubly  confounded.  The 
most  satisfactory  description,  both  of  plan  and  execution,  I 
have  met  with — at  least  in  a  compendious  form — is  that  given 
by  Lord  Lindsay,  in  the  second  volume  of  his  very  pleasant, 
frank-hearted  and  instructive  “  Letters  on  Egypt,  Edom,  and 
the  Holy  Land.”*  His  lordship  has  laid  fast  hold  on  the 
leading  idea,  and  carefully  though  briefly  followed  it  out. 

I  can  and  do  admire  Baal  bee  for  the  magnificence  of  its  de¬ 
sign — the  severe  and  massive  simplicity  of  its  style,  and  the 
unspeakable  delicacy  of  its  details.  I  remember  it  as  a  noble 
specimen  of  the  maturity  of  ancient  art  and  genius  j  but 
apart  from  all  things  beside,  I  beheld  in  it  an  imperishable 
memorial  of  God’s  righteous  dealing  towards  those  who 
would  rob  Him  of  his  glory,  and  transfer  it  to  the  creature. 
Every  yet  erect  column,  and  every  fallen  capital — over  which 
the  lizard  rushes,  or  about  which  the  serpent  twinesf — speaks 
eloquently  to  men  of  all  climes  who  muse  and  meditate  in 
the  silence  of  these  majestic  ruins — majestic  still,  in  their  deso¬ 
lation.  In  this  point  of  view  every  ruined  heathen  temple 
is  extremely  valuable,  especially  to  the  mind  imbued  with 
Christian  principles.  Oh  the  costliness  which  idolatry  has 
lavished  upon  ruinous  error !  Little  did  the  adorers  of  gods 
which  were  no  gods,  think  how  they  were  erecting  monu¬ 
ments  to  the  true  and  only  One!  How  wonderful — how  hu¬ 
miliating,  that  man,  the  creature  of  a  day,  should,  by  the 
steady  efforts  of  his  genius,  be  the  creator  of  structures  which 
remain,  when  even  the  name  of  the  large-minded  artist  may 

*  Wood  and  Pococke  should,  however,  both  be  consulted  by  those  who 
desire  to  enter  at  full  length  into  the  spirit  of  this  wonderful  remnant  o* 
ancient  genius. 

1  Great  numbers  of  lizards — graceful  creatures,  may  be  seen  sporting 
and  darting  along  at  every  step ;  and  we  found  part  of  the  cast  skin  of  a 
serpent  several  feet  in  length.  It  must  have  belonged  to  a  reptile  of  grea 
magnitude. 


BAALBEC. 


385 


have  passed  away  for  ever  from  the  tide  of  human  traditions. 
Who  designed — who  built  Baalbec?  Conjecture  only  ven¬ 
tures  a  reply  :  and  conjecture  itself  does  but  generate  conjec¬ 
ture.  Shall  we  listen  to  her  musings  ?  What  avails  it  ? 

- It  was  something  indeed  to  stand  amidst  the  ruins  of 

Baalbec,  and  gaze  westward  on  the  heights  of  Lebanon. 
Lebanon  had  become  old — had  grown  hoary  in  the  lapse  of 
ages,  long  before  the  rich  dawnings  of  Grecian  genius  stood 
forth  palpably  in  the  magnificence  of  Baalbec.  Baalbec, 
though  comparatively  modern,  is  overhung  with  mystery — 
the  shroud  of  buried  ages  is  about  it.  Lebanon — as  ancient 
as  creation — is  known  of  all  men :  its  record  is  written  with 
the  pen  of  inspiration.  Conjecture  has  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  Lebanon  stands  looking  towards  Baalbec,  like  the  truth 
of  God  smiling  in  majestic  pity  upon  the  weakness  and  error 
of  a  fallen  race.  As  Baalbec  crumbles  in  all  the  steady  pro¬ 
gressiveness  of  decay — Lebanon — the  glory  of  Lebanon,  only 
grows  older,  and  carries  on  the  simple  idea  of  permanence. 
Let  us  have  this  idea  prominently  before  us  in  our  medita¬ 
tions  upon  the  things  of  man  and  of  God — of  eternity  and  of 
time,  and  it  will  help  to  keep  us  rightly  balanced. 

Before  quitting  Baalbec  we  made  a  final  visit  to  all  the 
principal  parts  of  the  ruins,  and  were  not  a  little  annoyed  by 
the  officious  attentions  of  a  number  of  Arabs  who  proffered 
their  aid  as  guides,  &c.,  with  evidently  a  lingering  hope  of 
Backsheech  sparkling  in  their  eager  eyes.  We  could  not 
easily  rid  ourselves  of  them,  though  we  declined  their  ser¬ 
vices,  rendered  peculiarly  useless  by  our  mutual  want  of  a 
medium  of  communication.  While  we  were  examining  the 
minute  enrichments  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  a  middle-aged 
man,  who  appeared  to  be  the  Sheikh  el  Beled  (Sheikh  of  the 
village),  was  attracted  by  my  use  of  spectacles,  and  intimated 
by  signs  that  his  sight  was  defective.  I  put  my  glasses  before 
his  eyes — they  acted  upon  him  like  magic  ;  he  seemed  to  be 
gazing  on  a  new  world.  It  was  beyond  his  comprehension, 
He  kissed  my  knees  and  my  feet.  I  was  unwilling  to  re¬ 
move  the  spectacles  from  his  eyes ;  but  I  could  not  spare 

33 


380 


DEIR  EL  A  KUMAR. 


them.  I  bid  him  come  to  the  tent,  and  made  Hassenein  ex¬ 
plain  that  I  would  give  him  a  similar  pair  on  reaching  Bey- 
rout.  He  gave  me  the  name  of  a  friend  there,  to  whom  I 
could  entrust  them  for  him ;  and  I  suppose  my  Arab  friend 
is  now  happy  in  his  power  of  “  second  sight.”  An  Arab 
in  spectacles  is  certainly  a  novelty. 

Quitting  Baalbec  at  about  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon, 
we  proceeded  directly  across  the  plain  of  Bekaa.  in  a  north¬ 
westerly  direction,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  the  far-famed 
Cedars  of  Lebanon.  In  about  three  hours  we  reached  the 
village  of  Deir  el  Akhmar,  occupying  a  pleasant  spot  at  the 
foot  of  Lebanon.  In  various  parts  of  the  plain  we  saw  large 
herds  of  camels  and  flocks  of  goats  grazing  on  the  rank  and 
coarse  herbage  which  springs  up  without  cultivation,  attended 
by  parties  of  Bedaween,  armed  and  watchful.  And  though 
travellers  have  often  been  obliged  to  repel  the  attacks  of  the 
wild  tribes  who  inhabit  the  region  of  the  Lebanon,  we  expe¬ 
rienced  no  inconvenience  whatever,  and  were  many  times  sa¬ 
luted  with  u  Salaam  aleicum ,”  (Peace  be  with  you),  or  “  Mar - 
ahabbah ”  (You  are  welcome)  ;  the  ancient  and  accustomed 
salutations  of  these  ancient  and  peculiar  people. 

At  Deir  el  Akhmar  we  laid  in  a  store  of  provender  for  our 
horses,  and  a  supply  of  coarse  bread  for  ourselves ;  while 
large  numbers  of  the  villagers  came  round  us  with  their  habits 
of  curiosity  in  full  exercise.  We  had  hoped  to  get  fresh  and 
palatable  water  ;  but  it  was  poor  and  turbid.  The  inhabitants 
of  Deir  el  Akhmar  are  chiefly  Maronites ;  and  notwithstand¬ 
ing  their  poverty  and  rags,  are  a  graceful,  handsome  race  of 
people.  There  is  an  extensive  cultivation  of  tobacco  here  and 
about  other  villages  of  the  Lebanon.  The  villagers  were 
stripping  its  broad,  long  leaves  from  the  stalks,  and  hanging 
them  strung  upon  thread  in  the  sun  to  dry.  Having  supplied 
as  many  wants  as  this  poor  village  admitted  of,  we  began  the 
ascent  of  Lebanon  ;  and  after  continuing  our  ride  for  about 
three  hours  more,  through  a  charming  winding  road  overhung 
by  fine  woods  of  prickly  oak,  valonidi,  and  other  forest-trees, 
made  vocal  by  the  songs  of  joyous  birds,  we  reached  a  second 


AYUN-EL-TEENE - ASCENT  OF  LEBANON. 


387 


village,  the  greater  part  of  which,  like  many  others  in  Leba¬ 
non,  was  in  ruins — the  effect  of  the  Druse  and  Maronite  war¬ 
fare  ;  this  was  Ayun-el-teene — the  highest  part  of  the  lower 
ridges  of  the  mountain,  and  from  which  the  steep  and  difficult 
ascent  begins.  The  darkness  overtook  us  before  we  reached 
it;  when  right  and  left,  before  and  behind,  fires  were  quickly 
lighted  upon  the  heights  and  in  the  valleys  by  the  wandering 
dwellers  in  this  vast  mountain-territory,  whose  home  is  fre^ 
quently  beneath  the  spreading  oak,  or  the  remains  of  a  ruined 
wall — a  new  home,  it  may  be,  for  every  succeeding  night. 
As  we  passed  on  amidst  the  forests — great  numbers  of  fire¬ 
flies  glanced  with  their  brilliant  glitter  across  our  path,  with 
fantastic  elegance  and  beauty,  winging  their  way  sometimes 
to  a  distance  before  us,  and  then  suddenly  disappearing.  The 
fire-fly  is  one  of  the  most  graceful  things  in  nature.  We 
were  not  long  in  darkness,  before  the  moon  relieved  us,  and 
made  our  route  distinctly  visible — showing  the  heights  of  Leb¬ 
anon  above  us  with  peculiar  beauty.  The  evening  air  was 
deliciously  perfumed  by  flowers  scented  like  the  clove-pink  so 
common  in  England.  Just  beyond  Ayun-el-teene  we  descended 
into  a  lovely  valley  at  the  foot  of  the  upper  ridge  of  Leba¬ 
non,  into  which  rushes  a  bold  stream  or  cascade,  formed  by 
the  dissolving  snows  of  the  mountain.  Here  we  determined 
to  rest  for  the  night.  The  tents  were  soon  pitched,  and  the 
slender  comforts  of  our  locomotive  home  were  again  about  us. 
So  cold  was  the  water  which  flowed  through  the  valley,  that 
I  was  obliged  twice  to  put  the  cup  from  my  lips  before  I  could 
take  such  a  draught  as  a  traveller  in  Syria  frequently  requires. 
I  have  often  recalled  the  wondrous  beauty  of  the  scene  where 
we  passed  that  night  on  Mount  Lebanon.  The  moonlight 
was  so  brilliant — and  its  effect  so  surprising  upon  the  bold 
rock  and  forest  scenery,  that  nothing  less  than  the  vigorous 
pencil  could  depict  it-— words  cannot. 

On  the  following  morning  we  set  out  by  half-past  five,  to 
make  the  ascent  of  the  upper  ridge  of  Lebanon.  For  the 
first  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  the  way,  though  steep,  was  not 
difficult.  The  lower  part  of  the  ridge  over  which  we  passed 


388 


ASCENT  OF  LEBANON. 


during  that  time  was  thickly  overgrown  with  evergreen  oaka 
&c. ;  but  after  that,  the  trees  were  but  scanty,  and  soon  con 
sisted  of  only  a  few  poor  stunted  junipers  and  yews.  There 
were  many  wild  flowers  perfuming  the  air,  and  supplying 
the  bees  of  Lebanon  with  materials  for  their  delicious  honey. 
After  about  an  hour,  we  had  a  charming  view  southward  of 
the  Yamouni ,  or  “  Lake  Leman”  of  the  East,  as  it  has  been 
called — a  mountain-lake  formed  by  the  continually  melting 
snows.  Though  it  really  lay  at  the  further  end  of  the  valley 
of  Ayun-el-teene,  yet  it  appeared  elevated  above  its  real  posi¬ 
tion,  as  if  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  spot  from  which  we 
viewed  it.  The  route  now  became  steep  and  wearisome,  but  our 
horses  performed  surprisingly  ;  and  in  about  another  hour  we 
reached  a  small  valley  running  round  the  base  of  the  extreme 
mountain-ridge,  where  lay  a  large  breastwork  of  deep  and 
firmly-frozen  snow,  glittering  in  the  morning  sun.  The  at¬ 
mosphere,  for  about  twenty  minutes  before  we  reached  this 
spot,  was  elastic  and  bracing.  I  think  I  never  before  felt  my 
lungs  so  delightfully  expanded.  It  seemed  as  if  the  air  min¬ 
istered  present  strength  and  nourishment.  In  the  valley, 
where  the  snow  lay  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  the  ther¬ 
mometer — even  with  a  July  Syrian  sun  bearing  down  on  us, 
stood  at  54°  Fahrenheit.  We  refreshed  ourselves  with  hand¬ 
fuls  of  ice,  and  gave  some  to  our  horses.  They  knew  the 
worth  of  it  and  took  it  readily.  Another  quarter  of  an  hour 
brought  us  to  the  summit  of  Lebanon  ;  and  here  again — words 
are  feeble.  The  mountain  heights  recede  right  and  left,  and 
form  two  immense  ridges  of  nearly  equal  elevation  to  that  on 
which  we  stood,  very  like  parts  of  an  amphitheatre.  From 
these  the  eye  is  conducted  downwards  on  either  side,  over  mul¬ 
titudes  of  minor  hills — minor  however,  only  when  viewed 
relatively  with  the  main  ridges — but  great  in  themselves 
Following  the  descent,  the  eye  rests  on  a  vast  chasm,  vast  even 
at  the  distance  from  which  we  viewed  it,  through  which  the 
Kadisha,  or  sacred  river  of  Lebanon  flows  into  the  Mediterra 
nean  ;  while  on  both  sides  are  scattered  numerous  villages — 
Psherre,  Eden,  &c.  And  in  the  forefront  of  all,  lies  the  mag 


THE  CEDARS  OF  LEBANON. 


389 


nificent  expanse  of  the  Mediterranean  itself,  which  was  hidden 
from  us  by  the  mists  of  the  morning.  It  was  altogether  a 
scene  of  surpassing  splendor,  condensed  by  distance  into  the 
compass  of  one  picture.  The  soil  on  either  side  of  the  chasm 
had  a  fertile  appearance,  and  there  was  enough  of  woody  gar¬ 
niture  to  give  great  freshness  and  gracefulness  to  the  valleys. 
Now  and  then  a  moving  figure  was  seen  at  a  distance,  ascend¬ 
ing  or  descending  a  mountain  path,  or  stealing  along  the  silent 
plains  ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  there  were  a  sunny  Sabbath-keep¬ 
ing  throughout  the  whole  amazing  region  of  loveliness  and 
grandeur. 

- But,  we  came  to  see  the  Cedars  of  Lebanon — those 

ancient  trees  of  which  Solomon  discoursed,  when  his  wisdom 
extended  from  the  Cedar  even  to  the  Hyssop  that  springeth 
out  of  the  wall.  In  what  part  of  this  wonderful  picture  are 
they  to  be  found  ? - Let  the  future  traveller  look  down¬ 

wards,  about  midway  to  the  right,  and  he  will  see  an  appa¬ 
rently  small  clump — at  all  events,  not  a  very  considerable 
one  when  thus  viewed  at  a  distance — fresh,  green,  and  apart 
from  all  other  trees.  That  clump — those  trees  are  the  Cedars 
of  Lebanon.  The  approach  to  them  from  rock  to  rock,  is 
very  rugged  and  fatiguing.  I  was  sometimes  glad  to  dis¬ 
mount  and  go  warily  on  foot.  We  occupied  about  an  hour 
and  a  quarter  in  the  descent.  On  nearing  them,  the  clump 
assumes  the  stateliness  of  a  forest.  The  young  trees  which 
skirt  the  plantation  are  noble  specimens,  and  justly  claim  our 
admiration.  We  wound  our  way  through  the  midst  of  them 
with  the  “  smell  of  Lebanon,”  about  us,  and  soon  reached 
those  venerable  trees  which  have  received  the  reverence  of 
ag-es.  The  ancient  ones  are  twelve  in  number — seven  of 
them  clustered  together,  and  the  other  five  at  various  parts  of 
the  grove.  I  did  not  measure  the  girth  of  any,  but  I  felt 
their  gigantic  proportions  while  reclining  beneath  their  shade. 
And  are  these  the  trees — the  very  trees  of  which  Solomon 
spoke ;  and  which  have  supplied  the  inspired  penmen  with 
imagery  to  symbolize  spiritual  dignity  and  the  glory  which 
is  of  righteousness  ?  Why  should  they  not  be  ?  I  know  not 

33* 


390 


THE  CEDARS  OF  LEBANON. 


Certainly  they  hear  traces  of  the  lapse  of  ages  upon  ages. 
They  appear  as  old  as  Lebanon  itself — as  if  they  had  never 
been  seedlings.  If  they  are  not  the  very  trees,  surely  they 
have  sprung  from  the  seeds  of  the  most  ancient  ones.  The 
seven  which  are  clustered  together  go  up  like  gigantic  pillars; 
and-  their  interlaced  arms  above — each  in  itself  a  vast  tree — 
form  a  verdant  dome  through  which  the  vertical  sun  pene¬ 
trates  not.  I  delighted  in  cherishing  the  persuasion  of  their 
full  antiquity,  as  I  mused  on  Israel’s  history,  and  thought  of 
the  glory  of  Lebanon.  As  I  gazed  upon  them,  I  felt  that 
description  must  always  sound  like  exaggeration.  I  have 
seen  noble  cedars  in  Europe — the  growth  of  centuries  ;  but 
compared  with  those  of  Lebanon  they  are  but  saplings. 

While  assembled  beneath  the  canopy  formed  by  these  natu¬ 
ral  wonders,  we  were  visited  by  a  small  party  of  Maronite 
monks,  who  have  a  chapel  among  them,  and  are  connected 
with  a  convent  not  far  distant.  They  brought  us  a  supply  of 
new  milk  and  very  pleasant  curd  cheese,  which,  with  a  few 
eggs  and  bread  already  in  our  stores,  made  out  a  very  fair 
breakfast.  We  had  wished  to  be  quite  alone  among  the 
Cedars  of  Lebanon,  but  were  unable  to  shake  off  two  officious 
monks  and  an  Arab  boy,  who  tracked  us  in  every  step,  know¬ 
ing  well  the  meaning  of  the  word — the  hateful  word  “  Back- 
shecch ,”  and  pronouncing  it  with  perfect  ease  and  no  small 
importunity.  We  had  paid  liberally  for  our  milk  and  cheese, 
and  determined  not  to  yield  to  the  cupidity  of  these  pests  who 
followed  us  as  guides.  It  is  a  disgusting  thing  to  see  the 
greediness  of  gain  which  characterizes  these  poor  people. 
One  of  the  monks  seemed  very  anxious  to  secure  our  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  rude  chapel,  in  which  he  was,  I  presume,  the  chief 
officiating  priest.  It  consisted  of  four  bare  walls,  open  at  the 
top,  without  any  roof,  having  an  altar  with  some  attempt  at 
tinsel  decoration,  and  sacramental  vessels.  How  sad  that  Pope¬ 
ry  should  taint  even  the  remains  of  the  glory  of  Lebanon  ! 

We  returned  to  the  valley  of  Ayun-el-teene  ;  and  after  due 
rest  and  refreshment  resumed  our  homeward  journey  towards 
Beyrout,  intending  if  possible  to  make  six  hours  towards  the 


RETURN  TO  3-J710UT - CHRISTIAN  EDUCATION  IN  SYRIA.  3S1 


town  of  Zaakhli.  We  continued  our  way  along  the  valley 
Jt  a  couple  of  hours — passing  the  eastern  blink  of  the  lake 
Yamouni,  which  we  had  previously  beheld  at  a  distance. 
We  then  struck  into  a  bold  forest  path,  and  after  about  five 
hours’  travelling  found  ourselves  at  a  poor  village  called 
Furriehs,  having  by  some  mistake  turned  off  from  the  route 
to  Zaakhli.  The  moon  was  just  up;  and  while  the  tents 
were  being  made  ready,  I  seated  myself  on  a  fragment  of 
rock,  and  was  soon  joined  by  a  fine,  venerable,  grey-bearded 
Arab — the  Sheikh  of  the  village,  who  after  a  glance  of  en¬ 
quiry,  presented  to  me  his  lighted  pipe — a  matter  of  custom¬ 
ary  oriental  civility,  of  which  I  took  two  or  three  whiffs ;  and, 
however  silently  we  sat  gazing  upon  each  other,  we  seemed 
at  least  to  be  very  good  friends.  We  were  soon  surrounded 
by  the  greater  part  of  the  villagers,  whose  behaviour  was  as 
orderly  as  one  could  desire  ;  and  soon  sleep  put  an  end  to  our 
weariness.  The  next  morning  we  resumed  our  route  at  an 
early  hour ;  and,  continuing  along  the  valley  of  Bekaa,  re¬ 
traced  our  steps  nearly  by  the  way  we  had  come. 

During  our  short  sojourn  at  Beyrout,  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  making  the  acquaintance  of  Assaad  Yacoob  Kayat ,  a 
Christian  Syrian,  and  a  member  of  the  primitive  church  of 
Antioch,  who  is  devoting  his  energies  to  the  promoting  of 
sound  Christian  education  in  his  own  land.  He  received  us 
cordially  in  his  charming  residence,  overlooking  the  town 
and  bay  of  Beyrout,  and  overlooked  by  the  noble  heights 
of  Lebanon.  He  presented  us  to  his  wife,  whom  he  has 
emancipated  from  the  oriental  habit  of  seclusion.  In  Syria, 
as  in  other  parts  of  the  East,  the  females  are  kept  in  a  state 
of  sad  ignorance,  and  destitute  of  all  mental  cultivation.  To 
the  cause  of  female  education,  Assaad  has  given  much  atten¬ 
tion  ;  and  the  work  is  progressing — prejudices  are  steadily 
declining,  and  difficulties  are  fast  giving  way.  This  intelli¬ 
gent  and  energetic  man  has  thoroughly  mastered  the  English 
language,  and  abundantly  profited  by  a  residence  for  two 
years  in  the  University  of  Cambridge.  In  connection  with 
u  The  Church  of  England  Society  for  Promoting  Christian 


392  CHRISTIAN  EDUCATION - ANCIENT  CHURCH  OF  SYRIA. 

Education  in  Syria”  he  has  established  schools  for  both 
sexes  ;  but  his  main  object  is  eventually  to  raise  up  a  native 
agency  ;  for  which  purpose  he  has  promising  pupils  now  in 
England,  one  of  whom  is  about  to  graduate  at  Cambridge.  I 
had  fully  hoped  to  pay  repeated  visits  to  his  schools,  but  in 
this  I  was  disappointed,  partly  by  our  visit  to  Baalbec,  and 
partly  by  the  necessity  for  preparing  immediately  after  our 
return,  to  sail  for  Constantinople.  But  the  tone  of  Assaad’s 
mind,  in  regard  to  the  whole  matter  of  Christian  education  in 
Syria,  was  such  as  to  assure  me  that  his  movements  would  be 
zealously  and  judiciously  made.  On  one  occasion,  he  sent 
for  one  of  his  pupils,  an  intelligent  boy  of  about  fourteen 
years  of  age,  named  Giaboor  Bashoor ,  who  first  translated  a 
portion  of  the  Arabic  New  Testament  into  correct,  forcible, 
expressive  English  ;  and  afterwards  a  passage  from  the  Eng¬ 
lish  into  the  Arabic.  The  whole  exercise  indicated  an 
amount  of  quick  intelligence,  which  gratified  me  exceedingly. 
I  was  delighted  with  the  singleness  of  heart  which  Assaad  man¬ 
ifested  towards  this  great  business  of  his  life — which  may,  in  the 
providence  of  God,  be  an  effectual  commencement  of  a  spirit¬ 
ual  regeneration  of  Syria — once  blest  with  gospel-light,  but 
now  so  overshadowed  and  desolate.  What  Christian  heart 
would  not  deem  it  a  high  privilege  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to 
this  noble  enterprize  ? 

Besides  the  Maronites,  Armenians,  and  members  of  the 
Greek  church,  there  is  a  considerable  body  of  Christians  in 
Syria — descendants  of  the  primitive  church  which  has  been 
perpetuated,  amidst  Turkish  and  other  persecution,  from  the 
days  of  our  Lord  himself.  Though  in  many  respects  super¬ 
stitious,  yet  they  hold  “  the  head,”  and  indeed  embrace  the 
great  leading  truths  of  the  gospel,  and  desire  the  free  and  ex¬ 
pensive  circulation  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Their  form  of 
church  government  is  Episcopalian,  under  Methodius ,  the 
Patriarch  of  Antioch.  Many  of  them,  I  am  informed,  give 
proof  of  sincere,  if  not  enlightened  piety  ;  and  feel  the  need 
of  spiritual  reform  and  renovation.  Some  of  them,  I  am  told, 
know  what  their  church  should  be — and  desire  she  should 


CHRISTIAN  EDUCATION  TN  SYRIA. 


393 


become  such.  May  the  work  prosper,  and  may  the  glory 
of  it  be  seen  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus.*  The  despotic 
hand  which  has  so  long  held  Syria  in  its  grasp,  is  becoming 
relaxed.  The  Euphrates  is  drying  up — that  is — the  Ottoman 
Empire  is  withering — perishing  “  without  hand  and  there 
is  a  humbling  consciousness  of  the  fact  in  the  very  seat  of 
government.  As  this  power  declines,  surely  the  spiritual 
prospects  of  Syria  will  brighten.  On  this  subject,  scripture  is 
our  best,  our  only  safe  guide — the  infallible  interpreter  of  events 
which  gather  and  thicken  about  us.  The  energies  of  the 
longest  life,  and  the  richest  spiritual  gifts  and  graces  that  God 
bestows,  would  be  nobly  employed  in  promoting  the  regene* 
rative  movement  in  Syria  through  her  apostolic  church. 

*  While  writing  this  note,  Assaad  is  my  guest,  with  his  interesting 
wife  and  child,  and  Patragie  Zaciiarias — a  young  pupil.  Assaad  is 
now  in  England  for  the  purpose  of  interesting  the  members  of  our  church 
in  his  important  work,  and  providing  means  for  maintaining  and  securing 
the  education  of  his  pupils  already  here,  and  others  who  may  succeed 
them.  Three  of  them,  namely,  Abdallah  Araman,  Moossa  Tanoos, 
and  Nassif  Giamal  are  at  the  National  School,  Chelsea;  one,  Antonio 
Amiuni,  is  studying  medicine  at  King’s  College,  London;  and  a  fifth, 
Petragie  Zacharias  is  preparing  to  enter  the  University  of  Cambridge, 
in  October.t  These  are  all  of  the  better  class  of  Syrian  Society.  There 
are  many  other  promising  youths  who  might  also  have  been  sent  to  Eng¬ 
land  for  a  like  purpose ;  but  the  want  of  adequate  funds  has  stood  in  the 
way.  Assaad  has  succeeded  in  establishing  two  schools  at  Beyrout — one 
within  the  city,  the  other  without;  and  also  a  third  at  Damascus.  These 
schools  are  now  chiefly  supported  by  the  natives  of  Syria ;  so  that  the 
great  object  to  be  aimed  at  is  the  securing  means  for  educating  pupils  in 
England  for  missionary  labor — for  circulating  the  Scriptures,  and  superin¬ 
tending  the  schools.  Let  but  the  foundation  of  religious  education  be  well 
laid,  and  all  will  be  hopeful.  The  worth  of  a  body  of  well  educated  and 
spiritually  enlightened  natives  would  be  incalculable.  Indeed  I  cannot 
see  how  any  effectual  progress  can  be  made  without  such  instrumentality. 
I  cannot  but  think  that  the  advance  of  this  work  may  have  an  important 
bearing  upon  our  Episcopal  establishments  in  the  Mediterranean  and  in 
Jerusalem.  Enlightened  Syrians  are  peculiarly  adapted  for  useful 
employment  in  most  parts  of  Asia  and  Africa,  where  Arabic  is  the  com¬ 
mon  language.  They  are  capable  of  bearing  all  climates,  and  of  course 
familiar  with  all  oriental  customs,  habits,  and  prejudices — matters  in  which 
the  best  qualified  Europeans  would  find  great,  and  in  some  respects, 
insurmountable  difficulty. 

t  He  is  now  a  member  of  Sidney  Sussex  College. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  ISLANDS  OF  THE  ARCHIPELAGO  AND 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 

Departure  for  Constantinople— Cyprus— Rhodes— Colossus — Islands  of  the  Archi¬ 
pelago — Smyrna — The  Seven  Churches  of  Asia — The  Hellespont,  etc. — Constan¬ 
tinople — Lazaretto — Dancing  Dervishes — Fatalism — Scutari — Bulgooroo— Howl¬ 
ing  Dervishes— Journey  to  Broussa — Olympus— Thoughts  of  Home. 

It  was  on  the  thirtieth  of  July  that  we  embarked  for  Con¬ 
stantinople,  having  completed  our  brief  visit  to  the  Holy 
Land.  Had  I  been  quite  master  of  my  time,  I  should  prob¬ 
ably  have  lingered  amidst  scenes  so  touching  to  the  Christian 
heart,  and  perhaps  retraced  my  steps — again  to  gaze  on  ob¬ 
jects  towards  which  the  mind  instinctively  turns.  Though 
compelled  to  forego  this,  there  is  yet  deposited  in  my  memory 
a  mental  picture  of  Palestine  which  returns  upon  me  with  all 
the  freshness  of  reality,  whenever  I  dwell  upon  the  pages  of 
the  Holy  Word,  and  connect  the  facts  of  sacred  history  with 
the  undoubted  localities  which  I  have  visited.  Lord  Castle- 
reagh  arrived  late  on  the  previous  evening,  having  safely  ac¬ 
complished  his  intended  visit  to  Petra  (by  way  of  Hebron), 
Djerash,  Ammon,  &c.,  for  which  he  set  out  while  we  were 
sojourning  at  Jerusalem.  We  had  the  pleasure,  before  we 
embarked,  of  congratulating  his  Lordship  in  his  tent  pitched 
outside  the  walls  of  Beyrout,  and  passed  a  short  time  in  re¬ 
calling  the  delights,  fatigues,  and  adventures  connected  with 
our  past  movements.  Leaving  his  Lordship  quietly  reclining 
on  his  dewan,  we  gave  ourselves  to  the  stir  of  preparation, 
and  by  four  o’clock  were  on  board.  Our  two  servants,  Has- 
senein  and  Abd’lawahyed  accompanied  us  to  the  vessel,  with 
the  feeling  on  both  sides,  that  as  soon  as  the  anchor  should 
be  weighed,  our  connexion  would  be  at  an  end.  I  believe  we 


DEPARTURE  FOR  CONSTANTINOPLE. 


395 


were  all  truly  sorry  when  the  hour  of  separation  arrived;  for 
they  had  attached  themselves  to  us  by  unmingled  fidelity  and 
consideration  amidst  all  the  fatigues  and  difficulties  of  our 
journey.  We  gave  them  copies  of  the  New  Testament  in 
Arabic,  with  which  our  friend  Assaad  Y.  Kayat  had  furnished 
us ;  and  it  may  be  that  the  Spirit  of  God  will  lead  them  to 
the  fountain  of  living  waters.  Our  next  meeting  may  be 
in  the  white  garments  of  salvation,  before  the  throne  of  the 
Lamb. 

By  five  o’clock  we  were  bidding  farewell  to  the  venerable 
scenes  of  sacred  story.  The  anchor  was  weighed — the  last 
farewells  were  spoken  ;  and  as  the  boat  returned  to  the  shore, 
we  gazed  upon  the  receding  bay  and  graceful  city  of  Bey- 
rout,  and  the  noble  ridge  of  Lebanon  ;  and  it  was  not  long 
ere  the  shores  of  Syria,  and  the  heights  of  Lebanon  itself 
became  confounded  with  the  rising  mists  of  the  ocean  horizon¬ 
line.  Our  vessel  was  crowded  with  Asiatics,  bound  for 
Smyrna  and  Constantinople — amongst  whom  was  the  Def- 
tar  Dhar — the  Bey  and  Treasurer  of  the  Pashalic  of  Aleppo 
— a  great  man  in  his  way,  and  a  fair  specimen  of  Turkish 
indolence  and  indulgence.  He  was  attended  by  his  suite — a 
poor  miserable  set,  whose  whole  time  seemed  given  to  the 
supply  of  his  incessant  personal  wants.  The  great  man  spent 
most  of  his  time  reclining  on  his  temporary  dewan  on  deck, 
now  and  then  reading  a  page  or  two  of  sundry  books,  and 
sometimes  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  copy  of  the  Arabic 
Scriptures  ;  but  the  charms  of  literature  seemed  small  in  his 
estimation  when  compared  with  those  of  the  chibouk  and 
coffee,  the  pilau,  the  melons,  grapes,  and  arakee,  of  which  he 
received  large  and  frequent  supplies.  Then  there  was  the 
Governor  of  Aleppo — a  ferocious  and  cruel-looking  Turk, 
whose  dark  restless  eye  seemed  familiarized  with  scenes  and 
transactions  of  terror,  the  more  especially  when  stimulated  by 
arakee,  of  which  he  was  perpetually  taking  large  draughts. 
As  I  watched  the  movements  of  this  man,  I  felt  I  should  en¬ 
tertain  but  small  hope  if  it  rested  with  him  to  determine 
whether  my  neck  should  be  laid  bare  to  the  sabre  or  the  bow- 


396 


DEPARTURE  FOR  CONSTANTINOPLE. 


string.  His  was  one  of  those  countenances  whose  physiog. 
nomical  indications  could  not  be  mistaken.  Notwithstanding 
all  this,  he  was  a  considerable  poet  in  his  way  ;  and  often, 
after  sitting  in  dreamy  meditation  for  a  time,  would  retire  and 
commit  to  writing  the  creations  of  his  fancy — which  never 
went  far  beyond  a  stave  in  praise  of  the  Sultan,  as  I  was  in¬ 
formed  by  a  young  Maltese  who  knew  something  of  both  his 
history  and  habits. 

In  addition  to  these,  there  was  a  party  of  five  Abyssinian 
female  slaves,  huddled  together  in  a  kind  of  pen  formed  upon 
the  deck.  They  were  the  property  of  the  Deftar  Dhar,  and 
intended  as  presents  to  certain  of  his  friends  at  Constantino¬ 
ple.  They  often  indulged  in  shouts  of  merriment,  and  gave 
but  a  faint  notion  of  having  perceived  the  degradation  of 
slavery.  We  had  also  on  board  a  deputation  from  the  Maron- 
ites,  charged  with  a  commission  to  the  Sublime  Porte,  in  the 
hope  of  obtaining  a  Christian,  instead  of  a  Turkish,  governor. 
In  this  I  am  informed  they  succeeded — or  at  least  that  a 
Christian  governor  has  been  appointed.  Something  more 
forcible,  however,  than  a  Maronite  deputation  must  have 
brought  about  this  desirable  object.  The  Porte  has  learned  a 
lesson  of  submissiveness,  which  will  not  be  easily  unlearned. 
The  Maronite  deputation  consisted  of  three  energetic  and  in¬ 
telligent  looking  men — men  likely  to  be  in  earnest  in  what 
they  undertook.  The  church  of  Rome  is  powerful  in  the 
Lebanon,  through  the  tribe  of  the  Maronites. 

We  made  way  successfully  all  night ;  and  by  nine  o’clock 
on  the  thirty-first  of  July,  were  anchored  off  the  southern  shore 
of  Cyprus.  The  greater  part  of  the  island  consists  of  bold 
rock.  W e  remained  at  anchor  till  about  three  o’clock ;  but 
were  unable  to  go  ashore  (except  as  far  as  the  Lazaretto, 
which  had  no  charms  for  us),  on  account  of  an  existing  quaran¬ 
tine.  Cyprus  is  said  to  be  about  one  hundred  and  forty  miles 
long  and  forty  broad,  with  a  population,  chiefly  Greek,  of  about 
eighty  thousand.  Turkish  tyranny  has  reduced  it  to  a  sadly 
desolate  condition.  Dr.  E.  D.  Clarke  observes  that  u  Instead 
of  a  beautiful  and  fertile  land,  covered  with  groves  of  fruit  and 


CYPRUS. 


397 


fine  woods,  once  rendering  it  the  paradise  of  the  Levant,  there 
is  scarcely  upon  earth  a  more  wretched  spot  than  it  now  ex 
hibits.  A  few^words  may  forcibly  describe  it — agriculture 
neglected,  inhabitants  oppressed,  population  destroyed,  pestife- 
rous  air,  contagion,  poverty,  indolence,  desolation.”  The 
wines  of  Cyprus  are  the  only  produce  of  any  note  ;  and  the 
quantity  of  it  is  now  greatly  diminished.  Whatever  may  be 
the  present  condition  of  Cyprus,  however  oppressed  and  deso¬ 
late,  the  Christian  cannot  gaze  upon  its  rocky  shores  without 
many  a  fervent  recollection,  as  connected  with  the  first  plant¬ 
ing  and  early  spread  of  “  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the 
saints.”  He  remembers  that  “  Joses,  who  by  the  Apostles 
was  surnamed  Barnabas  (which  is,  being  interpreted,  The  son 
of  consolation),  a  Levite,  and  of  the  country  of  Cyprus ,  hav¬ 
ing  land,  sold  it,  and  brought  the  money  and  laid  it  at  the 
Apostles’  feet  and  afterwards  went  forth  with  Paul  from 
Salamis  to  Paphos,  furthering  the  cause  of  the  gospel  with 
which  the  Apostle  was  entrusted.  In  Cyprus  also  dwelt  Ser¬ 
gius  Paulus,  and  Elymas  the  sorcerer — the  former  an  enlight¬ 
ened  convert — the  latter  a  punished  opposer  ;f  and  there  too 
in  his  early  days  lived  the  “  old  disciple”  Mnason ,  who  showed 
hospitality  to  Paul  in  Jerusalem.^;  Unspeakably  delightful 
was  it  to  gaze  upon  this  rocky  territory  standing  up  in  the  wide 
ocean,  and  to  feel  assured  that  there  the  glad  tidings  of  great 
joy  were  fully  proclaimed  by  the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gen¬ 
tiles,  and  that  there  the  “  true  light”  once  shone  in  its  majestic 
splendor. 

During  all  the  next  day  and  night,  we  were  sailing  over 
the  “  Sea  of  Pamphylia,”  in  the  track  of  the  Apostle.  A 
rather  unfavorable  wind  made  the  vessel  rock  uncomfortably, 
and  somewhat  retarded  our  progress.  We  passed  Patara^  (or 
Patras)  about  noon,  but  on  account  of  a  slight  mist,  were 
unable  to  discern  more  than  the  mere  outline  of  its  rocky  ele¬ 
vations.  Further  inland,  but  of  course  invisible  to  us,  lay 
Lycia  and  Myra.  We  ought  to  have  reached  Rhodes  by  this 
time,  or  nearly  so ;  but  it  was  about  five  o’clock  in  the  after- 
*  Acts  iv.  36,  37.  t  Acts  xiii.  1—12.  t  Acts  xxi.  16.  §  Acts  xxi.  1. 

34 


398 


RHODES - COLOSSUS. 


noon  when  we  cast  anchor  in  the  harbor,  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  in  coals  and  other  needful  provisions.  We  lay  in 
harbor  all  night ;  but  were  prevented  going  on  shore,  by  the 
quarantine  regulations.  Yet  it  was  something  to  see  and 
touch  at  Rhodes.  We  naturally  enough  made  enquiries  as  to 
the  precise  spot  in  which  stood  the  celebrated  Colossus — one 
of  the  “  seven  wonders  of  the  world,”  but  were  unable  to  get 
any  certain  information.  Some  recent  travellers  have  sup¬ 
posed  that  the  remains  of  buttresses  yet  standing  at  the  en¬ 
trance  to  the  ancient  harbor,  are  part  of  the  foundations  on 
which  that  wonderful  statue  stood.  The  space  between  them 
is  about  twenty-seven  yards.  The  statue  was  of  brass,  and  is 
said  to  have  been  eighty  yards  in  height,  and  to  have  spanned 
the  mouth  of  the  old  harbor.  It  was  erected  by  the  Rhodians 
to  celebrate  their  successful  resistance  of  the  tenth  siege  of 
Demetrius  Poliocertes,  the  son  of  Antigonus,  emperor  of 
Syria.  Though  set  up  in  triumph,  it  was,  in  rather  more 
than  half  a  century,  thrown  down  by  an  earthquake.  So 
perishable  are  the  monuments  of  man’s  pride.  In  the  year 
653  its  fragments  were  transported  from  their  site,  on  the 
backs  of  nine  hundred  camels. 

Rhodes  and  its  harbor  form  a  striking  and  interesting 
picture.  The  main  town  itself  runs  down  to  the  shore  con¬ 
nected  with  the  harbor,  and  is  flanked  by  green  hills  and 
verdant  gardens.  There  is  a  massive  boldness  about  the 
whole  scene,  which  rests  upon  the  memory.  About  noon 
next  day  we  sailed  out  of  harbor,  and  made  way  but  slowly 
on  account  of  a  contrary  wind,  bearing  towards  Coos,*  which 
I  hoped  to  glance  at,  and  Patmos  and  Miletus  also  ;  but  the 
night  closed  upon  us  too  soon.  In  the  morning,  I  found  we 
were  sailing  between  Samos,  the  birth-place  of  Pythagoras, 
and  Scio — the  Chios  of  old  Homer.  The  former  was  so  far 
behind  that  it  appeared  more  like  a  mass  of  cloud  than  any 
thing  else.  The  latter  stood  boldly  before  us — a  finely  lined 
mountain-land,  but  barren.  As  long  as  Scio  lasts,  the  strains 
of  Homer  will  vibrate  in  the  world,  charming  the  excited 

*  Acts  xxi.  1. 


ISLANDS  OF  THE  ARCHIPELAGO - SMYRNA. 


399 


fancy  as  the  pale  student  toils  by  his  midnight  lamp.  I  can¬ 
not  describe  the  sensation  of  mind  with  which  I  glanced  on 
these  various  objects  of  deep  interest,  passing  before  me  writh 
much  of  the  shadowiness  of  a  dream.  Classical  or  Scriptural 
associations  were  connected  with  every  one  as  we  drew  upon 
the  stores  of  memory.  The  pictorial  effects  of  these  Islands 
of  the  Archipelago,  or  Egean  Sea,  are  very  charming,  as  they 
gradually  come  into  the  field  of  vision.  Scio  presents  a 
beautiful  aspect  of  fertility  in  the  plains  which  reach  down  to 
the  very  edge  of  the  sea.  The  town  itself  is  considerable,  and 
picturesque.  But  the  entrance  into  the  gulph  of  Smyrna  is 
one  of  the  finest  things  in  the  world.  The  harbor  is  bold 
and  extensive.  It  is  guarded  by  a  large  fort,  planted  with 
ordnance,  standing  about  two  miles  or  so  from  the  harbor.  It 
was  quite  delightful  to  see  among  ships  of  various  nations,  two 
British  men  of  war.  The  town  of  Smyrna  extends  along  the 
greater  part  of  the  bay,  and  has  the  appearance  of  great  com¬ 
mercial  activity.  Most  of  the  houses  are  built  of  wood  ;  and 
with  their  balconies  and  somewhat  European  roofs,  give  an 
appearance  to  the  town  very  unlike  that  of  the  oriental  towns 
and  cities  with  which  our  eyes  had  been  so  long  familiar. 
Within  the  last  twelve  months  prior  to  our  arrival  at  Smyrna, 
nearly  one-third  of  it  had  been  consumed  by  fire ;  but  as  the 
disaster  happened  at  the  rear,  there  is  no  visible  disfigurement. 
In  various  parts,  even  amidst  the  buildings,  there  are  fine 
plantations  of  cypresses,  with  their  feathery  spires  of  dark 
green — surrounding  the  many  places  of  sepulture,  and  throw¬ 
ing1  a  solemn  and  sombre  shade  over  the  otherwise  animated 
scene.  The  town  is  flanked  by  noble  ridges  of  bold  rock  and 
mountain,  whose  sweeping  forms  are  as  graceful  as  can  be 
imagined ;  and  the  town  itself  slopes  down  from  a  considera¬ 
ble  distance  to  the  brink  of  the  bay.  On  the  summit  of  the 
nearest  and  boldest  mountain,  stands  a  castle  of  large  dimen¬ 
sions — a  noble  object  in  the  picture.  The  plains  which  sur¬ 
round  the  approaches  to  the  harbor  are  profusely  covered 
with  vines,  fig  and  olive  trees,  growing  in  full  luxuriance. 
The  season  for  preserving  raisins  and  figs  had  commenced. 


400 


SMYRNA. 


When  we  lay  at  anchor,  the  harbor  presented  an  entire  circle 
of  rock,  island,  and  city ;  and  the  sunset  was  unspeakably 
superb.  The  effect  was  perfect.  We  had  not  been  long  at 
anchor  ere  numerous  boats  surrounded  the  vessel,  laden  with 
fruits  of  various  kinds — the  produce  of  this  far-famed  spot — 
delicious  grapes  of  extraordinary  size  and  sweetness,  melons, 
figs,  pears,  &c.,  of  which  we  laid  in  a  supply.  Besides  these 
refreshing  productions,  we  were  served  with  various  prepara¬ 
tions  of  ice.  The  quarantine  regulations  forbade  our  landing. 
I  was  vexed  at  this,  as  it  was  the  only  site  of  the  seven 
churches  of  Asia  which  we  had  any  hope  of  visiting;  but  still, 
as  one  of  them,  it  was  interesting  even  to  lay  at  anchor  in  its 
harbor.  What  is  written  by  the  pen  of  inspiration  concerning 
the  “  Church  in  Smyrna  ?”  u  And  unto  the  angel  of  the 
church  in  Smyrna,  write;  These  things  saith  the  first  and  the 
last,  which  was  dead,  and  is  alive  ;  I  know  thy  works,  and 
thy  tribulation,  and  thy  poverty  (but  thou  art  rich),  and  I 
know  the  blasphemy  of  them  which  say  they  are  Jews,  and 
are  not,  but  are  the  synagogue  of  Satan.  Fear  none  of  those 
things  which  thou  shalt  suffer;  behold,  the  devil  shall  cast 
some  of  you  into  prison,  that  ye  may  be  tried ;  and  ye  shall 
have  tribulation  ten  days  :  be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I 
will  give  thee  a  crown  of  life.  He  that  hath  an  ear,  let  him 
hear  what  the  Spirit  saith  unto  the  churches.  He  that  over- 
cometh  shall  not  be  hurt  of  the  second  death.”* 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  while  the  sites  of  most  of  the 
other  churches  of  Asia  are  but  scenes  of  desolation,  Smyrna, 
notwithstanding  the  vicissitudes  to  which  she  has  been  exposed 
(all  of  them  probably  intimated  in  the  prophetic  word  just 
quoted),  has  been,  and  still  is  in  every  way  the  most  prosper¬ 
ous  city  of  the  Levant.  Two  causes  may  be  assigned  ;  first, 
the  church  which  existed  in  the  time  of  John,  has  been  really 
perpetuated,  however  its  present  form  may  be  degraded  by  the 
superstitions  and  corruptions  of  the  Armenian  and  Greek 
churches  ;  secondly,  although  such  admixtures  exist,  and  the 
church  is  therefore  manifestly  corrupt,  yet  she  has  never  merged 

*  Rev.  ii.  8 — 11. 


THE  SEVEN  CHURCHES  OF  ASIA. 


401 


herself  in  the  apostacy  of  Home.  It  is  true  that  many  individ¬ 
uals — members  of  the  Greek  church,  are  said  to  have  aposta¬ 
tized  to  Rome  (a  most  probable  statement),  but  no  act  of  the 
church  has  constrained  them  to  such  a  movement.  If  then 
the  Apostolic  Church — though  confessedly  corrupt,  yet  main¬ 
taining  her  positive  position  as  to  Rome — still  exists,  then  in 
a  comparative  sense,  we  may  say  of  Smyrna — “  Thou  art 
rich.”  The  church  in  Smyrna  (in  Smyrna — not  of#)  has 
been  tried — has  endured  her  prophetically  announced  tribula¬ 
tion  ;  and  there  she  still  stands  in  Smyrna,  containing  within 
her,  as  we  trust,  the  seeds  from  which,  in  the  providence  of 
God,  her  regeneration  shall  spring,  so  that  she  may  be  “  faith¬ 
ful  unto  death,”  and  so  receive  the  “  crown  of  life.”  I  do 
think  the  history  and  present  state  of  the  church  in  Smyrna 
are  among  the  most  interesting  matters  of  reflection ;  and  if 
the  reasons  above  assigned  for  the  existing  prosperity  of  the 
city  be  just  in  fact,  and  scriptural  in  inference,  then  Smyrna 
speaks  a  lesson  of  admonition  to  the  world ;  a  lesson  which 
demands  attention  at  a  time  when  churches  and  governments 
seem  disposed  to  yield  to  the  arrogant  assumptions  of  the  See 
of  Rome.  If  it  be  the  perpetuation  of  an  apostolically  estab¬ 
lished  church  in  Smyrna,  yielding  no  allegiance  to  Rome, 
which,  in  the  providence  of  God,  has  secured  to  the  city  her 
continued  civil  prosperity — then  we  conclude,  that  in  what¬ 
ever  degree  churches  or  states  coalesce  with,  or  even  counte¬ 
nance  the  apostacy  of  Rome,  in  the  same  degree  may  civil 
discomfiture  be  expected. 

The  foregoing  observations  and  inferences  apply,  I  appre¬ 
hend,  in  some  degree,  to  Pergamos,  where  Antipas  was  the 
faithful  martyr  of  Christ, f  and  where  Satan  dwelt.  A  Chris¬ 
tian  church  still  exists  there,  though  tainted  as  that  in  Smyrna 
has  been  ;  but  it  acknowledges  no  allegiance  to  Rome.  It  is 
still  a  fairly  prosperous  town — now  called  “Bergamo.”  The 
present  population  of  Smyrna  is  estimated  at  about  one  hun¬ 
dred  and  twenty  thousand  ;  twenty  thousand  are  said  to  be 
Greeks,  nine  thousand  Jews,  eight  thousand  Armenians,  and 
*  See  Rev.  ii.  g.  +  Rev.  ii.  12 — 16. 

34* 


402 


THE  SEVEN  CHURCHES  OF  ASIA. 


one  thousand  Europeans  of  various  countries.  Bergamo  is 
said  to  contain  about  thirteen  thousand  Mahommedans,  one 
thousand  five  hundred  Greeks,  and  two  hundred  Armenians. 

Though  I  was  unable  to  visit  the  sites  of  the  seven  churches 
of  Asia,  yet  the  indubitable  information  which  has  been  col¬ 
lected,  enables  me  to  trace  a  strong  contrast  between  those 
just  mentioned,  and  the  rest,  upon  the  principles  already 
stated.*  Let  the  announcements  of  prophecy  be  examined  in 
reference  to  the  ascertained  state  of  Ephesus,  Thyatira,  Sar¬ 
dis,  &c.  and  the  truth  will  be  at  once  apparent ;  at  least,  a 
striking  accordance  between  prophecy  and  fact  will  be  obvi¬ 
ous.  Ephesus  is  no  longer  a  city.  She  u  left  her  first  love” — 
she  repented  not,  and  did  not  the  first  works.  The  Lord 
therefore  came  quickly,  and  removed  her  “  candlestick  out  of 
his  place.”f  Thyatira  is  still  distinguished,  as  in  the  days  of 
Lydia,  for  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  purple  but  this  is  all. 
H  er  commercial  insignificance  in  other  respects  is  remarkable, 
while  a  few  Greeks  and  Armenians  only,  possess  a  mere  nom¬ 
inal  Christianity,  in  which  there  is  no  spiritual  light — the  can¬ 
dlestick  is  gone.  Philadelphia  still  occupies  its  original  posi¬ 
tion  of  beauty,  and  has  its  gardens  and  vineyards  overhung 
by  the  heights  of  Tmolus.  It  has  been  observed,  that  “  its 
comparatively  retired  situation  might  be  one  of  the  means 
used  by  God  in  fulfilling  the  promise  ‘  I  will  keep  thee  from 
the  hour  of  temptation  that  shall  come  upon  all  the  world.’ 
Only  the  corrupt  form  of  the  Greek  church  exists  there ;  and 
its  members  are  said  to  be  numerous.  The  word  of  prophe¬ 
cy  held  out  encouragement  to  Philadelphia,  but  nothing  in  the 
way  of  severe  threatening.  “  Thou  hast  a  little  strength,  and 
hast  kept  my  word,  and  hast  not  denied  my  name . Be¬ 

hold  I  come  quickly  :  hold  that  fast  which  thou  hast,  that  no 
man  take  thy  crown.”  ||  Sardis  is  said  to  be  altogether  desti¬ 
tute  of  Christians  and  Christian  profession.  “  I  know  thy 
works’’  says  the  prophetic  word,  “  that  thou  hast  a  name  that 
thou  livest,  and  art  dead.”  Then  follows  the  language  of 

*  See  Dr.  Keith’s  Evidence  from  the  literal  fulfilment  of  prophecy. 

t  Rev.  ii.  4,  5.  t  Acts  xvi.  14.  §  Rev.  iii.  10.  II  Rev.  iii.  8—11. 


the  seven  churches  of  asia. 


403 


stern  admonition: — “  Be  watchful  and  strengthen  the  thing 
which  remain,  that  are  ready  to  die ;  for  I  have  not  found  thy 
works  perfect  before  God.  Remember  therefore,  how  thou 
hast  received  and  heard :  and  hold  fast  and  repent.  If  there¬ 
fore  thou  shalt  not  watch,  I  will  come  on  thee  as  a  thief.”* 
The  Lord  has  made  good  his  word.  No  successors  are  found 
to  those  “feAV  names  even  in  Sardis”  who  defiled  not  their 
garments — who  walked  with  their  Redeemer  “  in  white” — 
because  they  were  “  worthy.”!  Sardis  is  a  scene  of  ruin  and 
decay.  Laodicea  is  characterized  by  emptiness  and  poverty — 
the  lukewarm  Laodicea,  of  which  the  Lord  said  “  I  will  spue 
thee  out  of  my  mouth.”!  She  has  not  bought  of  Him  the 
“gold  tried  in  fire,”  that  she  might  be  “rich,”  nor  the  “white 
raiment,”  that  she  might  be  “  clothed,”  and  that  the  “shame” 
of  her  “  nakedness”  might  not  “  appear  ;”  nor  has  she  anoined 
her  “  eyes  with  eye  salve,”  that  she  might  “  see.”  She  has 
been  neither  zealous  nor  repentant,  though  the  Lord  has  stood 
at  the  door,  knocking  and  the  word  of  threatening  has 
lighted  upon  her.  Oh  !  that  the  nations  of  the  earth  would 
take  warning  while  the  word  of  prophecy  and  the  history  of 
the  churches  of  Asia  are  open  to  their  observation.  Oh  !  that 
we,  a  highly  privileged  and  spiritually  honored  people,  may 
hold  fast  that  we  have ,  that  no  man  take  our  crown  !  May  we 
strengthen  those  things  which  remain — may  we  repent  and  do 
the  first  works — may  we  beware  against  corrupt  admixtures 
and  innovations  either  in  doctrine  or  practice.  God  gave  us 
a  pure  scriptural  church  from  the  first ;  and  though  the  waters 
of  life  which  flowed  through  her,  were  for  a  time  tainted  by 
the  heresies  of  Rome,  yet  God  in  his  good  time  stood  forth 
for  her  reformation  ;  and  now — she  truly  breaks  and  dispenses 
the  bread  of  life,  and  pours  forth  the  pure  waters,  whose  foun¬ 
tain-spring  is  in  the  spiritual  rock — that  rock  which  is  Christ,  j] 
May  we  preserve  for  ourselves,  and  extend  to  the  utmost, 
what  God  has  so  benignantly  restored  to  us.  Let  but  the 
character  or  position  of  our  National  Church  be  compromised 

*  Rev.  iii.  1 — 3*  t  Rev.  iii.  4.  t  Rev.  iii.  16. 

§  Rev.  iii.  18 — 20.  II  1  Corinthians  x.  4. 


404  THE  ISLANDS  OF  THE  ARCHIPELAGO,  ETC. 

by  indolence,  indifference  or  design,  and  future  ages  may  have 
to  gaze  upon  the  torn  and  everlastingly  furled  banner  of  Eng¬ 
land,  upon  her  crushed  diadem  and  her  commercial  insignifi 
cance  ;  while  the  supplement  to  her  glorious  history,  written 
by  the  pen  of  the  historian  of  another  day,  dipped  in  tears— 
may  be  condensed  into  one  short  sentence — retrospective — • 
humiliating - c  Such  was  Chiistian  England,  on  whose  ter¬ 

ritory  the  sun  never  set,  in  her  prosperity:  but  alas!  her  sun 
has  gone  down — she  is  fallen  ;  and  the  stranger  from  a  far 
land  smiles  at  her  desolation  !’ 

At  five  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  fifth  of  August,  we 
quitted  the  harbor  of  Smyrna,  and  in  a  few  hours  were  again 
among  the  Islands  of  the  Archipelago,  which  rose  up  like 
shadows  in  the  dim  star-lit  medium  through  which  we  gazed 
upon  them — scenes  over  which  the  young  imagination  used 
to  hover,  when  our  hearts  vibrated  at  the  grandeur  of  Grecian 
story.  When  I  went  on  deck  next  morning,  we  had  Tenedos 
on  the  left,  and  soon  the  plains  of  Troy  stretching  off  to  the 
right,  with  Mount  Ida  topping  the  mountain  range,  from 
which  the  poetic  vision  had  conceived  of  “gods”  looking 
down  on  the  warfare  of  heroic  and  mortal  man.  And  there 
oo,  was  the  site  of  the  Troas  of  St.  Paul — the  place  where, 
in  a  vision,  the  Apostle  saw  a  man  of  Macedonia,  who  said 
“  Come  over  to  Macedonia,  and  help  us  — the  place  also, 
where,  on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  the  disciples  came  to¬ 
gether  to  break  bread,  and  Paul  preached  unto  them,  ready 
to  depart  on  the  morrow,  continuing  his  speech  until  mid¬ 
night  ;  and  where  he  afterwards  restored  life  to  the  fallen 
Eutychus.f  It  was  charming  thus  to  gaze  on  spots  rendered 
sacred  by  the  presence  and  devoted  labors  of  the  great  Apostle, 
and  to  know  that  we  were  borne  onwards  over  those  waves 
upon  which  his  bark  had  often  made  its  missionary  way. 

I  cannot — I  have  not  space,  to  dwell  upon  the  many  objects 
of  abiding  interest  which  crowd  the  picture — such  as  the 
Rhceteum  of  Aj6x,  and  the  Sigeum  of  Achilles,  where  Alex¬ 
ander  once  stood,  as  it  is  said,  and  wished  for  another  Homer, 
*  Acts  xvi.  8,  9.  t  Acts  xx.  6 — 10. 


405 


THE  HELLESPONT,  ETC. 

and  another  mighty  sweep  of  the  harp-string ;  and  such  also 
as  the  tumuli  of  Antilochus  and  Patroclus — those  memorials 
of  a  wondrous  and  heroic  age.  With  every  spot  there  is  con¬ 
nected  some  Christian  or  some  classical  recollection — often 
both,  all  tending  to  keep  the  mind  in  a  continual  stretch  of 
imaginative  reflection. 

Before  the  evening  closed,  we  entered  the  Hellespont :  and 
passed  between  Sestos  and  Abydos.  Here  the  two  great  con¬ 
tinents  of  Europe  and  of  Asia — the  Thracian  Chersonesus, 
and  the  cape  of  Sigeum  approach  within  little  more  than  a 
mile  of  each  other ;  while  the  blue  waves  of  Hellas  rush  be¬ 
tween  like  an  “arrowy  river.”  Was  it  not  here,  that  Xerxes , 
the  fourth  of  the  kings  of  Persia,  (“  far  richer”  than  the  rest, 
who  “  by  his  strength,  through  his  riches,  stirred  up  all  against 
the  realm  of  Grecia”*),  was  it  not  here  that  he  constructed  his 
bridge  of  boats — thereby  practically  uniting  Europe  and 
Asia,  so  as  to  pour  in  the  force  of  his  warlike  legions  ?  Was 
it  not  here — while  they  crowded  the  shores  of  both  continents, 
that  the  ambitious  monarch  wept  at  the  thought — that  in  an 
hundred  years  more,  not  one  of  the  thousands  would  be  left  to 
give  token  of  the  pomp  of  his  regal  power  ?  Even  so.  Xerxes 
and  his  bannered  hosts  are  dust !  Not  one  heart  now  beats 
responsive  to  the  clarion’s  cry,  or  the  thrilling  phantasy  of 
ambitious  daring.  Yet  there  are  the  mighty  continents,  stand¬ 
ing  as  they  stood  when  the  pageant  passed  upon  them ;  and 
Hellas  flows  onwards  with  the  freshness  of  a  youthful  stream 

We  lost  much  of  the  beauty  of  the  Hellespont,  by  reason 
of  our  night-sailing ;  but  we  just  glanced  from  side  to  side 
till  the  last  shadows  of  evening  gathered  over  scenery  that 
was  very  lovely — the  land  of  the  u  cypress  and  myrtle,”  with 
its  graceful  minarets  and  mosques,  and  picturesque,  painted 
houses  of  wood,  amidst  groves  of  olives,  lofty  cypress  and  pro¬ 
lific  gardens.  We  lay  down  to  rest  soon  after  the  beautiful 
vision  was  closed,  in  the  expectation  that  our  waking  eyes 
would  rest  on  the  splendors  of  Stambool — the  ancient  Byzan¬ 
tium — the  capital  of  the  first  Christian  emperor — now  the 

*Daniel  xi.  2. 


406 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


capital  of  the  crescent.  Alas !  for  Constantine.  Alas !  for 
Constantinople. 

August  seventh. — At  five  o’clock  I  was  aroused  from  my 
berth  by  the  announcement  that  we  were  at  length  within 
sight  of  Constantinople.  I  started  up  instantly ;  and  without 
staying  to  dress,  threw  on  my  large  cloak  and  rushed  upon 
deck  ;  and  certainly  I  was  abundantly  repaid  by  one  of  the 
most  superb  scenes  on  which  my  eyes  ever  rested.  Far  ahead 
rolled  the  Bosphorus — before  us  stretched  the  magnificent 
ocean-entrance  to  the  wondrous  city.  All  was  dim  and 
shadowy,  as  the  mists  of  the  early  morning  hung  like  a  veil 
of  gossamer  over  the  vast  array  of  white  domes,  towers,  and 
lofty  minarets.  So  dreamy,  changing,  and  vast  was  the  pic¬ 
ture  as  we  moved  on,  that  there  was  almost  need  to  pause  and 
be  satisfied  it  was  not  a  night-vision  of  the  excited  fancy. 
The  morning  sun  was  struggling  with  the  thin  mists — and 
beneath  their  veil,  cast  a  pink  hue  upon  the  white  and  glis¬ 
tening  expanse  of  architectural  magnificence.  The  whole 
city  seemed  to  have  sprung  up  from  the  ocean’s  depths  at  the 
bidding  of  some  enchanter.  On  the  right  lay  Scutari — the 
Asiatic  part  of  the  city.  On  the  left,  Stambool — and  Pera — 
the  European  part.  On  either  side,  the  city  is  carried  up 
bold  and  rocky  elevations,  flanked  by  hills  still  loftier,  crowned 
and  in  many  parts  covered  by  groves  of  towering  cypress, 
which  made  old  Sandys  say,  “  It  seemeth  to  present  a  city 
in  a  wood  to  the  pleased  beholders.”  As  we  advanced  up 
towards  the  extreme  part  of  the  sea  of  Marmora,  the  view 
became  more  and  more  definite.  The  mist  was  gradually  de¬ 
parting,  and  the  sun  acquiring  greater  power  and  brightness. 
At  length,  we  actually  entered  the  port,  having  on  our  left 
the  ancient  royal  residence — the  Seraglio — that  dark  scene  of 
cruelty,  treachery,  and  blood.  It  is  of  great  extent,  walled 
round  ;  and  has  the  appearance  of  a  considerable  town  in 
itself.  The  walls,  which  abut  upon  the  sea,  are  massive  and 
lofty.  Between  and  around  various  parts  of  the  Seraglio  are 
rich  plantations  of  luxuriantly  growing  trees,  various  in  their 
kinds,  intermingled  with  some  of  the  noblest  cypresses  I  have 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


407 


ever  seen.  Palace  after  palace  presented  itself  to  our  ^iew 
as  we  passed — all  royal  palaces;  and  one  especially,  of  great 
magnitude  and  somewhat  in  a  European  style,  built  princi¬ 
pally  by  the  late  Sultan  Mahmoud,  and  finished  by  his  son 
and  successor,  the  present  despot.  Almost  grouped  together 
with  the  Seraglio,  but  yet  towering  above  its  highest  eleva¬ 
tions,  stands  the  most  ancient  mosque  of  Constantinople — once 
the  Christian  church  of  Santa  Sophia,  with  its  conspicuous 
white  dome  and  lofty  minarets.  Ships  of  all  flags  crowded 
the  port,  and  displayed  a  scene  of  grandeur  and  animation 
quite  indescribable.  At  length,  the  sun  broke  forth  in  full 
morning  splendor,  and  the  almost  overpowering  magnificence 
of  the  city  on  all  sides  was  unveiled.  Surely  it  must  be  the 
noblest  position  in  the  world  for  a  great  capital ;  and  one  of 
the  most  marvellous  pictures  on  which  the  eye  of  man  ever 
gazed.  When  fairly  in  port,  you  command  the  whole  city  in 
one  circular  glance.  We  swung  round  upon  our  anchor  for 
a  time,  while  proper  officers  obtained  the  usual  license  to 
remain ;  and  forthwith  were  carried  down  the  Bosphorus  to 
the  Lazaretto,  on  the  Asiatic  side,  for  the  purpose  of  enduring 
the  infliction  of  quarantine ;  while  all  along,  we  continued  to 
be  surprised  at  the  vast  succession  of  palace,  minaret,  dome, 
and  tower,  intermixed  with  the  ordinary  painted  residences  of 
the  people.  My  dear  friend  and  fellow  traveller  had  for  some 
time  shown  symptoms  of  an  intermittent  fever,  which  made 
the  prospect  of  performing  quarantine  doubly  distressing. 

We  were  soon  deposited,  with  all  our  baggage,  in  the 
Lazaretto — a  large  prison-like  building,  as  filthy  as  can  well 
be  imagined.  Our  arrival  was  an  amusing  scene — Turks, 
Greeks,  Arabs,  Syrians,  Jews  and  Christians,  were  all  impa¬ 
tient  and  clamorous  to  get  on  shore ;  most  of  them  carrying 
their  few  articles  of  convenience,  baggage,  &c.  on  their  backs 
— such  as  mattresses,  carpets,  mats,  and  cooking  utensils,  and 
hastening  to  secure  the  best  berths  in  this  house  of  misery. 
Languages  of  all  kinds  were  grunted  and  screamed  at  the 
highest  pitch  that  eagerness  and  anxiety  could  give  to  the 
human  voice.  Happily  for  us  we  had  found  on  board  a 


408 


C  ONSTANTINOPLE — LAZA  RETTO . 


kind,  intelligent  companion — a  friend  indeed — in  Mr.  Caso* 
lani,  a  young  Maltese,  of  the  medical  profession,  who  had 
been  for  some  time  in  the  quarantine  service  at  Beyrout. 
This  gentleman  not  only  spoke  good  English,  but  sufficient 
also  of  Turkish  to  make  himself  fairly  understood — an  ac¬ 
quirement  of  no  small  importance  in  the  Lazaretto  of  Con¬ 
stantinople,  where  all  the  guardians  or  attendants  are  Turks, 
and  have  no  idea  that  there  is  any  other  language  spoken  in 
the  world  besides  their  own — at  least  worth  acquiring  or 
listening  to.  But  for  the  assistance  of  our  kind  young  friend, 
I  fancy  we  should  have  come  off  but  badly,  amidst  the  hor¬ 
rors  and  privations  of  quarantine.  As  it  was,  the  certainty 
of  spending  nine  or  ten  days  in  that  wretched  Lazaretto,  was 
more  than  enough  to  break  the  spirits  even  of  a  man  in 
health  like  myself.  It  must  have  been  peculiarly  distressing 
to  my  sick  friend. 

When  we  first  reached  the  Lazaretto,  I  quite  feared  that 
we  should  be  obliged  to  share  one  poor  apartment,  only  a  few 
yards  square,  with  a  set  of  untidy  Turks  and  Arabs.  After  a 
little  perseverance,  however,  we  had  a  room — a  single  room 
for  all  purposes,  allotted  to  us ;  but  when  we  opened  the  door, 
an  old  grey-bearded  Turk  had  already  taken  possession. 
When  civilly  told  that  he  must  vacate,  he  became  outrageously 
angry.  However,  I  and  Mr.  Casolani  entered,  and  told  him 
plainly  that  he  must  go  out ;  at  which  announcement  he 
became  like  a  bedlamite  with  rage,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to 
flash  fire.  He  made  a  violent  rush  at  us,  and  endeavored  to 
thrust  us  back — vociferating  at  the  same  time,  till  his  voice 
became  a  wild  scream.  The  poor  man  was  evidently  de¬ 
ranged  ;  and  certainly  his  previous  behavior,  while  on  board, 
was  extravagant  and  eccentric  enough.  At  length,  one  of  the 
quarantine  officers  interfered,  and  made  him  go  to  another 
room,  stamping  with  rage ;  and  thus  we  were  left  tenants  of 

our  wretched  whitewashed  walls  and  a  bare  unwashed  floor. 

/ 

without  a  single  article  of  furniture  of  any  kind,  or  even  a 
prospect  of  obtaining  any.  There  was  only  one  redeeming 
point  about  our  miserable  habitation,  and  that  was  a  superb 


CONSTANTIN  OPLE - LAZARETTO . 


409 


view  of  Constantinople  to  the  left,  and  the  other  splendors  of 
the  Bosphorus  to  the  right — all  of  which  presented  at  sunset 
one  of  the  most  surprising  and  lovely  pictures  on  which  I 
ever  gazed  ;  while  the  sounds  of  the  muezzin  from  minaret 
to  minaret — so  peculiar — so  unlike  any  other  utterance  of  the 
human  voice,  sounded  in  our  ears.  Great  numbers  of  caiques , 
the  common  boats  of  the  Bosphorus,  were  flitting  like  shadows 
across  the  smooth  waters — noiseless  and  graceful.  While  I 
pondered  over  the  enchanting  scene,  I  could  almost  have 
wept  to  think  that  any  thing  so  surpassingly  lovely  as  Con¬ 
stantinople  should  be  but  a  sty  o£  sensuality,  vice,  and  igno¬ 
rance — a  filthy  slave  at  the  chariot-wheels  of  the  false  prophet. 
But — the  Ottoman  empire  is  foredoomed  of  God  ;  the  time  of 
her  evaporation  is  not  far  distant,  and  she  knows  it.*  And 
what  will  Stambool  become,  when  the  reins  of  government 
shall  be  in  the  rightful  hand — even  that  of  the  “King  of  kings, 
and  Lord  of  lords  ?” 

We  spent  eight  comfortless  days  in  quarantine,  amidst  rats, 
which  gambolled  about  the  room  at  night,  and  swarms  of 
other  vermin  which  kept  all  hope  of  refreshing  sleep  at  a  dis¬ 
tance.  Through  the  kindness  of  our  young  friend  Mr.  Caso- 
lani,  we  procured  at  length  a  few  articles  of  furniture — a 
small  table,  two  wooden  chairs,  a  tub  for  washing,  &c.  &c. — 
and  were  daily  served  with  provisions  brought  down  the  Bos¬ 
phorus  from  Pera.  My  only  bed  was  my  segaddeh  (Mahom- 
medan  prayer  carpet),  which  I  had  brought  with  me  from 
Cairo ;  and  a  carpet  bag  was  my  pillow.  I  do  not  purpose 
entertaining  my  readers  with  a  narrative  of  all  the  disagree¬ 
ables  attending  a  Turkish  quarantine ;  but  certainly  I  may 
say  that  the  Lazaretto  of  Constantinople  seems  far  more 
likely  to  promote  than  to  check  the  plague.  Such  was  the 
effect  of  this  loathsome  imprisonment  upon  my  mind  and 
spirits,  that  I  could  neither  read  nor  write,  with  any  feeling 

*  The  Turks  have  long  entertained  a  traditionary  belief  that  Christianity 
must  prevail  universally  for  a  limited  period  of  forty  years.  This  belief  has 
now  become  a  matter  of  positive  and  present  expectation.  And  as  the  re¬ 
ligion  of  the  Koran  has  fatalism  as  one  of  its  distinguishing  features,  all 
hostile  opposition  to  Christianity  is  gradually  subsiding. 

35 


410 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


of  comfort,  for  any  length  of  time  together — and  so  the  hours 
dragged  on  heavily  indeed.  My  poor  friend  continued  sadly 
invalided  all  the  time,  and  almost  a  prisoner  to  the  room — 
sometimes  worn  almost  beyond  endurance  by  the  endless 
shoutings  and  chantings  of  Dervishes  and  other  noisy  varieties 
of  the  Arabian  family,  who  occupied  the  adjoining  and  sur¬ 
rounding  rooms. 

Soon  after  breakfast  on  the  eighth  day  of  captivity,  we 
were  summoned  from  our  den  into  a  large  quadrangle  within 
the  walls,  where,  with  others  who  had  shared  the  same  fate, 
we  were  marshalled,  like  a  file  of  soldiers,  before  the  medical 
officer  of  the  establishment,  and  were  one  by  one  declared 
free  from  plague,  and  fit  to  mingle  with  the  untainted  people 
of  Stambool.  The  hour  of  our  release  was  fixed  for  six 
o’clock  on  the  following  morning,  and  we  were  called  upon 
to  pay  one  hundred  and  forty-five  piastres  for  the  luxury  of 
imprisonment.  We  were  then  permitted  to  resume  the  pos¬ 
session  of  our  baggage,  the  greater  part  of  which  had  been 
taken  from  us  on  our  arrival,  for  the  purpose  of  disinfection — ■ 
if  tainted  ;  and  while  we  went  to  the  storehouse  to  claim  it, 
our  room  was  fumigated  by  burning  certain  disagreeable 
drugs,  which  left  for  a  long  time  an  offensive  odor  behind. 
The  Lazaretto  seemed  quite  alive  with  the  proceedings  of  the 
day  ;  and  most  countenances  brightened  at  the  prospect  of 
emancipation. 

On  the  following  morning,  all  was  in  readiness  for  our 
departure ;  and  we  were  invited  to  pay  a  visit  of  ceremony  to 
the  Bey  or  Governor  of  the  quarantine  establishment.  We 
accordingly  mounted  the  stairs  of  a  poor  dirty  habitation,  and 
were  immediately  ushered  by  Turkish  attendants  in  waiting, 
into  a  pleasant  room,  with  the  usual  projecting  latticed  win¬ 
dow,  overlooking  the  Bosphorus,  and  commanding  a  noble 
view— especially  to  the  right,  looking  to  the  point  where  the 
smooth  waters  flow  onwards  majestically  to  the  Black  Sea. 
In  his  appearance,  the  Bey  was  half  Turk — half  Frank,  and 
received  us,  squatting  on  his  dewan,  with  civility  and  courtesy. 
The  visit,  as  usual,  resolved  itself  into  pipes  and  coffee — and 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


411 


so  passed  off  in  vapor.  We  turned  our  back  on  the  Lazarettc 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  stepped  on  board  our  light  caique ,  the 
first  stroke  of  whose  oars  spake  gaily  of  liberty  to  the  captives. 
About  an  hour’s  sharp  pulling  brought  us  to  Pera — the 
Frank  quarter  of  Constantinople  ;  and  soon  we  found  our¬ 
selves  comfortably  housed  at  the  European  hotel  of  Madame 
Giusippini  Yitali — to  whom  we  had  been  recommended  by 
our  young  Maltese  friend. 

Once  the  traveller  sets  his  foot  on  shore  at  Constantinople, 
his  first  impression  of  the  city  is  sadly  interfered  with.  Its 
filth  and  habitual  untidiness  present  themselves  at  every  turn. 
But  still — Constantinople  opened  to  us  at  once  a  fresh  page 
in  the  history  of  man — another  phase  of  the  endless  variety 
of  the  human  family,  in  which  may  be  readily  traced  the 
present  tone  and  character  of  the  Turkish  mind.  The  im¬ 
pression  constantly  forced  upon  me,  was  that  of  a  people  just 
resolving  to  make  shift  with  things  as  they  are,  upon  the  con¬ 
viction  that  their  end  is  not  far  distant.  There  is  an  air  of 
sadness  and  hopelessness  intermingled  with  all  that  looks  like 
stir  and  activity  and  enterprise.  The  national  heart  beats 
slowly ;  and  there  is  every  thing  in  the  spirit,  even  of  the 
modern  form  of  despotism,  to  check  a  healthful  development 
of  the  resources  of  national  mind.  The  Ottoman  empire  is 
stagnant ;  and  its  poisonous  malaria  hangs  over  Stambool. 

Formerly,  Christians  were  never  allowed  on  any  pretence 
to  ride  through  the  streets  of  Constantinople,  or  any  other 
Turkish  town,  on  horseback,  or  even  on  an  ass  ;  and  that  for 
two  reasons: — first,  lest  they  (the  “ infidels ”)  should  assume 
an  equality  with  the  faithful  ;  and  secondly,  lest,  being  ele¬ 
vated  over  Mussulmans  who  might  be  walking,  their  shadow 
should  be  projected  upon  the  faithful,  and  so  cause  pollution 
by  an  imaginary  contact.  All  this  is,  however,  at  an  end 
and  every  body  who  chooses  to  mount  a  horse,  mule,  camel, 
or  ass,  may  do  so.  Formerly,  too,  every  Christian  was 
obliged,  on  meeting  a  Turk,  to  incline  his  head  as  far  as  pos¬ 
sible  towards  the  left  shoulder  ;  and  if  he  dared  to  omit  it, 
was  usually  treated  with  a  smart  slap  on  the  face,  or  other 


412 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


manual  castigation  ;  but  this  also  is  at  an  end  j  a  Christian 
may  carry  his  head  as  he  pleases — even  in  the  presence  of  the 
Sultan  himself- 

The  Turkish  carriages,  chiefly  used  by  ladies,  are  clumsy, 
tawdry  things,  like  gilded  gingerbread,  drawn  by  two  horses, 
with  a  driver  running  by  the  side.  As  you  glance  into  them, 
you  see  little  beside  masses,  as  it  were,  of  white  muslin,  the 
ugly  disguise  of  the  Turkish  women.  Waggons  drawn  by 
oxen  are  also  common  enough  in  the  streets,  often  laden  with 
fruits  of  various  kinds,  and  other  merchandize.  The  number 
of  ugly,  gaunt,  and  hungry  looking  dogs  which  infest  the 
streets,  is  quite  disgusting ;  and  at  night  they  go  about  in 
immense  droves,  howling  and  yelling  hideously.  The  street- 
passenger  after  nightfall  is  obliged  to  go  armed  against  them 
with  a  stick  or  dog-whip  made  for  the  purpose.  While  in 
the  east,  I  could  well  understand  the  figure  used  by  the 
Psalmist,  in  reference  to  the  ungodly — the  enemies  of  God’s 
people : — “  And  at  evening  let  them  return,  and  let  them 
make  a  noise  like  a  dog,  and  go  round  about  the  city.  Let 
them  wander  up  and  down  for  meat,  and  grudge  if  they  be 
not  satisfied.”* 

Immediately  in  front  of  our  hotel  was  the  ancient  burial 
ground  of  Constantinople — an  extensive  forest  of  noble  cy¬ 
presses,  which  are  the  customary  garniture  of  all  places  of 
sepulture.  I  made  it  a  place  of  frequent  resort  for  exercise. 
The  cypresses  emit  a  delightful  balmy  fragrance,  not  unlike 
the  Cedars  of  Lebanon.  Their  deep  shade  was  almost  im¬ 
pervious  to  the  sun.  The  whole  surface  of  the  ground  is 
thickly  covered  with  tombs  and  grave  stones — sometimes 
beautifully  wrought,  and  covered  with  inscriptions  in  the 
Turkish  character  Most  of  them  have  a  turban  carved  in 
stone  on  the  top  of  an  ornamented  pillar.  The  descendants 
of  the  prophet,  or  those  who  claimed  to  be  so  in  their  life 
time,  have  the  turban  painted  green.  Many,  even  of  the 
most  costly  memorials  of  the  dead  are  sadly  defaced  ;  indeed, 
freedom  from  it  is  the  exception  rather  than  the  rule.  Thou 

*  Psalm  lix.  14,  15. 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


413 


sands  upon  thousands  of  the  followers  of  the  false  prophet, 
slumber  in  that  vast  charnel-house.  They  will  one  day 
know  Christ  in  his  resurrection-power,  though  they  owned 
him  not  as  the  one  Mediator  between  God  and  man. 

The  objects  of  positive  interest  in  Constantinople  are,  after 
all,  really  but  few  ;  and  such  as  they  are,  one  looks  on  them 
only  as  remnants  of  a  passing  pageant.  We  made  many 
excursions  to  Stambool,  crossing  from  Pera,  in  one  of  the 
light  graceful  caiques,  just  at  the  mouth  of  the  golden  horn, 
opposite  the  Seraglio  point.  We  availed  ourselves  of  an 
opportunity  of  ascending  the  Seraskiers’  tower,  for  the  sake 
of  the  view  which  it  affords.  In  our  way  thither,  we  passed 
through  the  court-yard  of  the  grand  mosque  of  the  Sultan 
Bajazet,  and  were  just  permitted  to  peep  within  the  doors 
without  being  stoned.  We  had  not  obtained  the  costly  key 
— called  a  firman ,  and  therefore  could  not  be  admitted.  In 
the  court-yard  were  immense  numbers  of  pigeons,  for  which 
the  Turks  entertain  a  kind  of  religious  veneration.  A  dove 
was  said  to  be  the  medium  of  spiritual  communication  to  the 
false  prophet.  The  Seraskiers’  tower  is  principally  used  for 
the  purpose  of  keeping  watch  over  the  city,  in  order  that 
timely  notice  may  be  given  by  a  signal,  of  the  breaking  out 
of  a  fire  in  the  midst  of  the  many  timber-built  habitations. 
From  the  summit  of  the  tower,  there  is  a  magnificent  pano¬ 
ramic  view  of  Stambool — Pera — Scrutari — the  Bosphorus — 
the  Sea  of  Marmora — the  Hellespont — the  Mediterranean, 
&c.  &c. 

We  visited  the  tomb  of  the  late  Sultan — Mahmoud  the 
Second,  which  is  a  handsome  marble  structure,  with  a  dome, 
and  open  ironwork  windows,  through  which  the  exact  place 
of  sepulture  is  seen,  surmounted  by  the  shape  of  a  coffin, 
overhung  with  rich  and  costly  cashmere  shawls,  and  the 
jewelled  tarbouch  of  the  deceased.  The  entrance  to  the 
tomb  is  planted  with  beautiful,  cool  looking  shrubs.  We 
visited  also  the  tombs  of  Selim  and  Mustapha,  the  two  imme¬ 
diate  predecessors  of  Mahmoud.  Mustapha  deposed  and  mur¬ 
dered  Selim  ;  and  Mahmoud,  in  his  turn,  deposed  and  mur 

35* 


414 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


dered  Mustapha.  These  three  men  were  brothers — the  sons 
of  one  father!  The  fever  of  their  murderous  ambition  is  now 
effectually  subdued.  What  will  be  the  meeting  of  these 
three  brothers,  at  the  judgment  of  the  great  day  ! 

The  Hippodrome — near  the  mosque  of  Akhmet,  is  a  spot 
of  some  interest,  as  being  the  scene  in  which  Belisarius  cele¬ 
brated  his  victories  in  a  Roman  triumph,  when  the  full  blaze 
of  his  glory  was  around  him.  It  was  an  aceldama — afield 
of  blood,  when,  in  1826,  the  late  Sultan  Mahmoud  strewed  it 
with  the  mangled  corpses  of  the  butchered  Janissaries.  On 
that  awfully  memorable  occasion,  blood  ran  like  water  in  the 
streets  of  Constantinople.  The  extermination  of  the  Janissa¬ 
ries  was  a  tremendous  and  terrible  stroke  of  Turkish  policy; 
but  if  we  admit  that  human  policy  could  justify  while  it  de¬ 
manded  such  a  blow,  the  necessity  for  it  is  not  to  be  ques¬ 
tioned.  The  Hippodrome  is  a  large  open  space,  or  oblong 
square;  and  in  the  middle,  is  a  fine  obelisk,  said  to  have  been 
transported  by  the  Emperor  Theodosius,  from  Egypt.  It  is 
as  fresh  and  perfect  in  its  hieroglyphical  inscriptions  as  if  it 
were  the  work  of  the  last  age.  Near  the  obelisk,  is  a  curious 
bronze  pillar,  wrought  in  the  form  of  three  intertwined  ser¬ 
pents.  It  is  said  to  have  been  brought  from  Delphi,  and  to 
have  borne  the  golden  triphod  consecrated  to  Apollo,  after  the 
defeat  of  Xerxes.  Not  far  distant  is  the  celebrated  pillar  of 
Constantine,  bound  round  with  iron  bands  to  hold  it  together. 
It  is  of  porphyry,  surmounted  by  a  white  marble  capital,  and 
surrounded  at  intervals  with  wreaths  sculptured  in  relief — 
but  all  much  defaced.  It  has  been  preserved  with  great 
care ;  and  even  now,  is  a  fine  remnant  of  an  early  age  of 
Christianity. 

We  saw  as  much  of  the  Seraglio  as  could  be  explored 
without  a  firman.  It  is  an  extensive  pile  of  irregular  build¬ 
ing.  The  main  gate  is  an  awful  place ;  and  has  borne  wit¬ 
ness  to  the  rivers  of  blood  shed  by  Turkish  tyranny.  On 
each  side  are  arched  recesses  in  the  wall,  where  the  heads  of 
common  persons  were  heaped  together  after  wholesale  decap¬ 
itations.  The  heads  of  discarded  ministers,  and  persons  of 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


415 


rank  and  condition,  when  called  on  to  submit  to  the  Sultan’s 
sanguinary  will,  are  usually  exposed  on  a  silver  dish,#  placed 
upon  a  low  marble  column,  about  eighteen  inches  high,  and 
still  standing  between  the  first  and  second  gates  of  the  Serag¬ 
lio.  I  felt  half  sickened  as  I  stood  on  this  scene  of  blood  and 
treachery,  and  suffered  dark  thoughts  of  the  past  to  steal  over 
my  mind. 

Every  Friday,  the  Sultan  goes  in  state  to  some  one  of  the 
mosques.  We  took  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the  proces¬ 
sion.  %  The  present  Sultan,  Abdul-Medjid ,  is  a  son  of  Mah¬ 
moud  the  Second.  On  reaching  Stambool,  we  found  the 
people  all  on  the  alert,  and  many  forming  themselves  in 
groups  to  await  his  arrival.  Immense  numbers  of  women, 
veiled  from*  head  to  foot  in  white  muslin  veils  which  are  so 
disposed  over  the  face  as  to  give  them  the  appearance  of 
corpses,  sat  on  the  pavement  in  every  open  part  of  the  streets, 
while  others  occupied  balconies  and  the  roofs  of  houses.  The 
Sultan’s  hebdomadal  visits  to  the  mosques  afford  occasions, 
of  which  the  people  usually  avail  themselves,  for  presenting 
petitions  and  memorials  as  he  passes  along.  These  docu¬ 
ments  are  courteously  received  by  some  official  person  in 
attendance  upon  his  Majesty,  and  are  never,  on  any  account, 
rejected.  The  procession  commenced  with  many  fine  horses, 
led  by  grooms,  richly  caparisoned.  Then  followed  several 
Pashas,  all  well  mounted  and  attended.  Next  came  the 
Capitaine  Pasha  (chief  of  the  naval  force),  and  other  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  council.  After  them  followed  some  of  the  Sultan’s 
horses,  attended  by  grooms — splendid  animals,  about  fourteen 
and  a  half  hands  high — the  fullest  size  of  Turkish  and  Arab 
horses.  At  length,  surrounded  by  a  large  body  of  military 
officers  on  foot,  came  the  Sultan  himself,  mounted  on  a  noble 
charger.  Instead  of  the  stately  and  magnificent  costume  of 
Turkey,  the  Sultan  and  all  his  suite  wore  common  tarbouches, 
blue  surtouts,  and  strangely  shaped  trousers  ;  and  the  only 
difference  between  the  dress  of  the  monarch  and  his  attend- 

*  There  was  probably  a  custom  somewhat  similar  in  the  east,  long  prior 
to  the  existence  of  the  Turkish  dynasty.  See  Matthew  xiv.  8—11. 


416 


CONSTANTINOPLE - DANCING  DERVISHES. 


ants  was  a  short  military  cloak  worn  by  the  former,  clasped 
at  the  throat  with  a  rich  jewel.  The  Sultan  has  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  a  mere  stripling,  and  is  pale*  sickly,  and  effeminate. 
His  countenance  is  placid  enough — but  void  of  meaning  and 
character.  He  has,  however,  the  easy  bearing  of  a  gentle¬ 
man.  He  glanced  slightly  from  side  to  side  as  he  slowly 
rode  along  ;  but  not  a  single  voice  greeted  him.  I  suppose 
it  is  not  the  popular  custom  to  salute  the  monarch  as  he  passes. 
Many  of  the  national  peculiarities  of  Turkey  are  giving  way  ; 
amongst  other  things,  I  may  refer  to  their  gradually  discard¬ 
ing  the  Asiatic  costume  which  has  been  worn  ever  since  they 
became  a  people.  The  late  Sultan  was  the  first  innovator  in 
this  particular,  by  introducing  a  semi-European  uniform  into 
the  army,  the  appearance  of  which  is  exceedingly  mean  ;  and 
it  sits  in  the  worst  manner  possible  upon  the  clumsy  ungain 
figures  of  the  fat  and  shapeless  Turks. 

Every  body  has  heard  of  the  a  Dancing  Dervishes ”  of  Con¬ 
stantinople.  We  made  a  point  of  witnessing  their  solemnities. 
The  Dervishes  are  an  order  of  men  somewhat  equivalent  to 
the  monks  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  churches.  There  are 
colleges  in  which  they  are  trained  to  their  office,  which  is  of 
a  mystic  kind.  I  believe  they  sometimes  pretend  to  be  the 
recipients  of  divine  revelations.  They  may  be  always  known 
by  their  dress,  the  peculiarity  of  which  consists  in  white  flow¬ 
ing  garments,  and  a  conically  shaped  hat  made  of  drab  colored 
felt,  without  a  brim.  The  chief  of  the  order  wears  a  small 
green  shawl  bound  upon  his  temples,  somewhat  like  a  turban 
over  the  hat.  They  profess  great  sanctity ;  and  although 
Musselmans  who  can  afford  it  are  now  becoming  much  accus¬ 
tomed  to  the  use  of  arakee,  and  sometimes  even  wine,  yet  the 
Dervishes  still  profess  to  abstain  from  all.  But,  certainly,  I 
must  affirm  that  I  have  seen  an  actual lv  drunken  Dervish  ; 
and  that,  too,  on  board  the  vessel  which  brought  us  to  Con¬ 
stantinople — the  only  instance  of  intemperance  I  remember  to 
have  seen  from  the  time  I  left  England  till  I  returned.  Alas  for 
England  and  her  abominable  national  vice  !  On  one  occasion 
during  the  voyage,  the  Dervish  in  question  dined  with  the 


CONSTANTINOPLE - DANCING  DERVISHES. 


417 


Deftar  Dhar  of  Aleppo ;  and  after  having  drunk  arakee 
beyond  endurance,  he  behaved  so  rudely  that  I  called  to  the 
steward  to  put  him  out  of  the  cabin.  The  Deftar  Dhar 
prevented  actual  expulsion  by  coaxing  him  on  deck  :  and 
there  was  an  end  of  the  matter.  But — judge  of  my  sur¬ 
prise  when  I  attended  the  solemnities  of  the  dancing  Der¬ 
vishes,  and  saw  the  guilty  lover  of  arakee  joining  with  a 
large  party  of  his  fellows  in  the  mystic  ceremonies  of  the  day, 
and  looking  as  sedate  and  exemplary  as  any  hypocrite  could 
desire  to  do. 

On  reaching  the  place  of  exhibition,  it  was  necessary  to  be 
provided  with  a  pair  of  loose  slippers,  drawn  over  our  boots,  to 
be  left  at  the  door  outside  ;  without  which  there  could  be  no 
admittance.  The  Dervishes  were  assembled  when  we 
arrived,  in  a  large  area  of  an  octagonal  shape,  with  a  wooden 
floor  smoothly  polished,  round  which  various  partitioned  pews 
or  recesses  were  ranged  for  spectators,  with  a  gallery  above. 
The  head  or  chief  presided,  squatting  on  a  small  crimson- 
dyed  sheepskin,  at  the  further  part  of  the  area,  while  the 
inferiors  first  proceeded  in  slow  and  solemn  march  round  the 
floor,  to  the  music  of  softly  sounded  pipes,  somewhat  like 
badly-played  flutes ;  to  which  was  occasionally  added  the — 

turn-turn - tum-tum - tum-tuni - of  a  small  kind  of  tabor, 

struck  with  the  hand.  After  this  had  continued  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  or  thereabouts,  the  Dervishes  began  one  by  one, 
slowly  to  revolve,  as  if  on  a  pivot ;  till  at  length,  all  were  in 
rapid  motion  like  so  many  peg-tops.  Each  turned  “  on  his 
own  axis,”  keeping  up  at  the  same  time,  a  kind  of  a  plane¬ 
tary  motion  round  and  about  the  area.  Most  of  them  had 
their  eyes  closed,  and  appeared  as  if  in  a  magnetized  sleep  or 
stupor ;  while  the  rest  had  their  eyes  partially  opened,  but 
void  of  expression,  like  people  walking  in  their  sleep  and 
amused  by  dreams.  Their  arms  were  extended  in  a  nearly 
horizontal  line  while  the  evolutions  continued,  and  seemed  to 
be  rigidly  fixed.  After  having  continued  these  exertions  for 
upwards  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  they  wheeled  off  by  degrees, 
and  formed  into  a  circle,  bowing  lowly  at  the  same  time  to 


418 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


the  superior.  After  a  very  brief  pause,  these  movements  were 
twice  repeated :  and  then  the  whole  party  lay  prostrate,  and 
apparently  exhausted,  wrapped  in  the  folds  of  their  ample 
garments,  during  which  time,  a  chanted  prayer  was  offered. 
At  a  signal,  they  ail  rose  at  once,  and  one  by  one  approached 
the  superior  and  kissed  his  hand  ;  then  filing  off  to  the  right 
of  him,  kissed  the  hands  of  each  other.  With  this  ceremony 
the  whole  affair  concluded. 

The  remains  of  the  ancient  walls  of  Byzantium  are  objects 
of  great  interest.  They  are  on  the  south  and  south-western 
sides  of  the  present  city,  and  consist  of  a  threefold  fortification, 
each  wall  being  lower  than  the  other ;  and  the  inmost  one — 
the  highest,  is  surmounted  by  towers  of,  I  should  guess,  about 
thirty  or  thirty-five  feet  square,  placed  at  intervals  of  about 
four  hundred  feet.  Many  of  these  towers  are  much  decayed 
and  some  quite  in  ruin.  All  the  walls  are  battlemented,  and 
constructed  for  the  discharge  of  archery.  They  are  said  to  be 
of  the  age  of  Justinian.  Trees  of  great  magnitude  are  now 
growing  between  them  ;  and  at  the  foot  of  the  outer  wall,  in 
a  kind  of  moat,  are  gardens  well  cultivated,  and  abundantly 
productive.  The  walls  now  remaining  extend  upwards  of 
two  miles — terminating  at  the  river  which  is  connected  with 
an  extensive  lake,  called  the  “  sweet  waters”  of  Europe. 

On  our  return,  we  rode  through  the  Jewish  and  Greek 
quarters  of  Constantinople ;  and  certainly  it  were  no  easy 
matter  to  describe  the  filthy  and  squalid  appearance  of  the 
former.  The  latter  was  a  trifle  better.  The  Jews  are  now 
suffered  to  live  without  any  sanctioned  molestation  ;  and  the 
Sultan  has,  moreover,  issued  a  strong  proclamation  in  their 
favor,  on  the  intercession  of  Sir  Moses  Montefiore.  Some  of 
them  -are  said  to  have  amassed  great  wealth  ;  but  still  they 
persist  in  maintaining  an  air  of  indigence,  so  as  to  attract  as 
little  as  possible  the  cruel  glances  of  Turkish  cupidity. 

If  a  traveller  would  form  an  idea  of  the  habits  and  character 
of  the  population  of  Constantinople,  he  must  make  frequent 
visits  to  the  bazaars.  There  he  will  see  most  classes  passing 
before  him — full  of  their  peculiar  external  nationality.  Some 


CONSTANTINOPLE - FATALISM . 


419 


traces  of  the  ancient  stateliness  of  the  Turkish  bearing  are  still 
visible ;  but  no  one  can  pass  a  few  observant  days  among 
them,  without  feeling  that  there  is  a  rapid  national  change  in 
progression — whether  for  better  or  worse  is  yet  to  be  seen. 
European  tastes  and  habits  are  acquiring  great  ascendancy ; 
and  should  the  Ottoman  empire  hold  together  a  few  years 
longer,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  pure  orientalism  of 
Turkey  will  glide  off  altogether.  But  is  not  the  decline  of 
national  characteristics  an  indication  of  decline  in  far  more 
important  matters?  The  heart  of  the  Ottoman  empire  is 
faint — and  like  the  botanical  class  of  sycophant  plants,  it 
clings  to  what  is  nearest,  and  to  whatever  is  stronger  than 
itself.  The  only  thing  to  which  Turkey  should  now  cling, 
is  that  of  ail  others  which  she  most  hates.  She  has  risen  and 
declined  under  the  crescent — she  must  fall  and  wither  under 
it  unless  she  cling  to  the  cross ;  and  this  she  will  not  do. 
Her  prospects,  as  well  as  her  present  condition,  are  proclaimed 
by  the  voice  of  inspiration.  Her  day  is  not  far  distant.  She 
knows  it.  Asia  knows  it.  Europe  knows  it.  Who  does  not 
know  it?  The  strong  arm  from  the  north  is  stretched  over 
her — she  sees  the  shadow  of  it,  and  trembles.  Let  but  the 
day  of  her  decadence  finally  set  in,  and  from  that  moment 
will  commence  a  moral — a  physical — a  political  change  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  that  shall  supply  and  fix  the  interpreta¬ 
tion  of  many  a  prophecy  over  which  men  have  mused  with 
speculative  wonder  and  varied  anticipation — a  change  in 
which  returning  Israel  shall  trace  the  faithfulness  of  a  long- 
suffering  God.  If  Mahommedanism.  in  its  past  history, 
present  state  and  ultimate  prospects,  be  speculated  on  in  any 
other  light,  or  through  any  other  medium  than  that  afforded 
by  revelation — it  is  a  series  of  inexplicable  phenomena. 
View  it  in  God’s  own  light,  and  it  becomes  at  once  intelli¬ 
gible  in  all  its  bearings. 

I  cannot  but  remark  how  strikingly  influential,  on  national 
character,  the  fatalism  of  the  Koran  has  ever  been.  “  Allah 
is  great — Allah  is  good — Allah  has  unalterably  fixed  every 
event  and  circumstance  in  which  his  creatures  are  concerned. 


420 


CONSTANTINOPLE - FATALISM. 


From  his  predetermination  there  is  no  appeal — against  it 
.here  is  no  help.  The  chain  of  fate  binds  the  universe.” 
Such  is  the  fatalism  of  the  Koran  ;  and  it  presents  a  melan¬ 
choly  picture  of  a  right  principle  wrought  out  in  error.  It  is 
an  unrevealed  predestination.  It  is  the  “  natural  man’s”  view* 
of  the  sovereignty  of  God  :  a  view  which  resolves  itself  into 
the  notion  of  a  mere  despotism.  But  however  erroneous — 
however  opposed  to  that  revelation  of  Himself  as  the  moral 
governor  of  the  universe,  which  God  has  been  pleased  to 
bestow  upon  man,  yet  it  does  actually  and  effectually  indu- 
ence  the  followers  of  the  false  prophet ;  and  the  charge  which 
they  bring  against  the  professors  of  the  true  faith  is,  that  their 
avowed  principles  have  but  little  bearing  upon  their  outward 
conduct.  “You  profess  allegiance,”  they  say,  “to  God  as 
your  sovereign ;  but  you  seek  to  resist  him  by  your  will. 
We  recognize  his  will  as  manifested  in  his  acts,  and  submit.” 
Hence,  the  Turks  never  commit  suicide  under  distressing 
affliction  or  reverses  of  fortune;  such  a  thing  is  never  heard 
of.  They  never  mourn  for  the  dead ;  they  do  not  even 
murmur  under  the  heaviest  burthens  of  existence.  “Allah  is 
great — Allah  is  good,”  say  they.  An  intelligent  gentleman, 
Mr.  La  Fontaine,  long  resident  in  Constantinople,  and  famil¬ 
iarized  with  every  thing  Turkish,  once  mentioned  to  me  a 
remarkable  instance  of  this.  A  Pasha,  with  whom  he  had 
long  lived  on  terms  of  intimacy,  was  possessed  of  an  immense, 
a  princely  revenue,  and  was  moreover  the  favorite  of  the 
Sultan.  Under  one  of  those  sudden  reverses  of  fortune  so 
commonly  connected  with  Turkish  despotism — the  result  of 
caprice  or  intrigue — the  Pasha  was  disgraced  and  despoiled 
of  every  piastre.  He  was  no  longer  the  favorite  of  the  Sultan 
— the  world  was  no  longer  his  friend.  A  few  days  after  his 
misfortune,  instead  of  flinging  himself  into  the  Bosphorus,  or 
blowing  out  his  brains  with  a  pistol — as  many  a  nominal 
Christian,  under  similar  circumstances,  would  have  done — he 
tvas  seen,  with  an  unperturbed  countenance,  selling  a  few 
lemons  at  the  corners  of  the  bazaars  of  Constantinople.  Mr. 

*  1  Cor.  ii.  14. 


CONSTANTINOPLE - SCUTARI — BULGOOROO. 


42 


La  Fontaine  saw  him  so  employed,  and  actually  purchased 
some  of  his  little  stock.  He  inquired  whether  he  did  not 
keenly  feel  this  sad  reverse  of  fortune  ?  “  Not  at  all,”  said  he. 
“Allah  is  great — Allah  is  good.  He  gave  me  all  that  I  once 
possessed — he  has  taken  it  again  ;  and  he  had  a  perfect  and 
indisputable  right  to  do  so.  I  am  well  content.”  Mr.  La 
Fontaine  assured  me  that  this  was  no  singular  instance  of  the 
powerful  activity  of  the  principles  in  which  the  Turkish  mind 
is  disciplined.  Would  that  the  pure  and  eternally  true 
principles  which  revelation  has  set  before  our  Christianized 
population,  were  as  practically  influential  upon  national  and 
individual  conduct.  Alas,  there  is  a  deplorable  inconsistency, 
observable  at  a  glance,  between  our  doctrines  and  our  practice 
— our  acknowledged  principles  and  their  results.  The  fault 
is  not  in  our  system,  but  in  ourselves.  God  himself  lays 
down  the  principle  of  moral  conduct — man  modifies  before  he 
attempts  to  obey ;  and  his  obedience  therefore  is  to  a  law  of 
his  own  constructing.  The  result  is — disobedience  towards 
God.* 

We  made  a  delightful  excursion  to  Scutari ,  which  lies  on 
the  Asiatic  side  of  the  Bosphorus.  Scutari  is  the  ancient 
Chrysopolis — the  sea-port  of  Chalcedon.  It  is  now  densely 
populated,  and  chiefly  by  Turks.  We  crossed  over  from 
Pera,  in  one  of  the  caiques.  The  Turkish  watermen  are  very 
careful  and  dexterous  ;  and  so  they  had  need  be.  On  reach¬ 
ing  the  Asiatic  shore,  we  immediately  mounted  some  hack 
horses  which  stood  ready  caparisoned,  and  proceeded  beyond 
the  crowded  bazaars  to  a  finely  elevated  spot  called  Bulgooroo , 
which  commands  a  splendid  panoramic  view  of  the  Turkish 
Capital,  and  its  surrounding  objects  of  classical  interest  and 

*  Let  us  take,  for  instance,  our  blessed  Redeemer’s  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  as  an  expansive  view  of  a  divine  legislation;  let  us  press  upon  men 
the  principles  there  disclosed,  in  their  exact,  literal  sense  and  application  ; 
and  there  is  scarcely  one  from  which  they  are  not  disposed  to  shrink,  as  if 
the  principles  were  too  stringent — too  minute  also  as  practical  rules  of 
conduct.  And  as  to  the  mere  moralists  of  the  world — they  §ay  that  the 
morality  of  the  Gospel  is  too  high  for  society  as  it  is.  And  they  say  truly 
Let  society  be  modelled  upon  Christian  principles — and  the  practice  i 
easy.  Turkish  society  is  modelled,  upon  its  avowed  principles — and  we  see 
he  result. 


422 


CONSTANTINOPLE — HOWLING  DERVISHES. 


association.  It  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  scenes  in  the 
world..  You  forget  the  filth  and  wretchedness  of  detail;  nor 
do  you  quite  remember  the  political  insignificance  of  the 
Sublime  Porte,”  while  the  eye  ranges  over  such  a  picture  of 
unparalleled  magnificence  and  natural  beauty.  In  our  way 
towards  Bulgooroo,  we  passed  the  small  country  house  in 
which  the  late  Sultan  Mahmoud  ended  his  eventful,  miserable 
life.  He  had  been  removed  from  his  favorite  palace  below, 
in  the  hope  of  obtaining  cooler  breezes  than  the  banks  of  the 
Bosphorus  afforded.  Of  late  years  he  had  habituated  himself 
to  an  enormous — an  almost  incredible  daily  consumption  of 
ardent  spirits  ;  and  while  enduring  the  pangs  of  his  last  sick¬ 
ness,  he  constantly  complained  that  he  felt  as  if  he  were  burn¬ 
ing.  He  died  in  a  state  of  horrible  mental  excitement;  and 
it  is  said  that  he  thoroughly  foresaw  the  hopeless  prospect 
which  overhung  the  Ottoman  Empire.  Life’s  fitful  dream  is 
past :  the  pageant  is  gone  :  and  Sultan  Mahmoud  fills  a  single 
page  of  history. 

From  the  heights  of  Bulgooroo  a  fine  expanse  of  Asiatic 
territory  was  visible ;  hut  the  traces  of  cultivation  were  few. 
This  is  the  case  also  on  the  European  side.  Perhaps  Turkey 
contains  some  of  the  finest  and  richest  arable  land  in  the 
world,  and  capable  of  almost  unlimited  production  ;  but  it  lies 
waste,  like  the  territory  of  a  hopeless  and  stagnant  people.  The 
genius  of  enterprize  and  the  spirit  of  industry  are  not  there. 
The  greater  part  of  the  grain  consumed  in  Turkey  is  im¬ 
ported — and  that  chiefly  from  Odessa. 

While  at  Scutari,  we  had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the 
ceremonies  of  the  “ Howling  Dervishes ” — a  scene,  the  very 
remembrance  of  which  inclines  the  Christian  heart  to  say — 
“  Have  respect  unto  the  covenant,  for  the  dark  places  of  the 
earth  are  full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty.”*  We  found  these 
strange  devotees  assembled  in  a  square  building,  about  thirty 
feet  each  way,  constructed  very  much  like  that  in  which  we 
had  witnessed  the  solemnities  of  the  dancing-  Dervishes,  with 
separate  places  all  round,  for  spectators.  On  our  arrival,  a 

*  Psalm  lxxiv.  20. 


CONSTANTINOPLE - HOWLING  DERVISHES. 


423 


large  party  of  Dervishes  were  assembled,  kneeling  in  a  semi, 
circle,  while  in  front  of  them  were  several  superior  or  chief 
persons  of  sage  and  venerable  appearance,  ranged  on  a  kind 
of  dewan,  with  mats  or  carpets  formed  of  the  dyed  skins  of 
animals.  Around  the  enclosure  hung  various  instruments  of 
torture,  which,  until  prohibited  by  the  late  Sultan,  were  used 
for  superstitious  purposes  of  self-infliction.  Some  of  them 
were  hooks  w'ith  sharp  points  ;  others  were  heavy  metallic 
oalls  with  iron  spikes  projecting  from  them — which  when 
hrown  upon  the  ground  recoiled  and  inflicted  a  wound :  and 
.here  were  also  long  pointed  wires  used  for  thrusting  through 
the  cheeks  of  devotees.  Perhaps  they  were  after  the  manner 
of  those  instruments  used  for  a  like  purpose  by  the  prophets 
of  Baal.#  Besides  these  there  were  various  musical  instru¬ 
ments,  tambours,  tom-toms,  &c.  Some  of  the  Dervishes  wore 
the  usual  white  costume  ;  while  other  persons  of  all  ages — 
even  young  boys  of  eight  or  ten  years  old,  attended  in  the  or¬ 
dinary  Turkish  dress,  and  engaged,  apparently  as  novices,  in 
the  ceremonies.  The  exercise  at  which  we  found  them,  con¬ 
sisted  of  chanting  in  a  heavy  monotonous  tone,  bowing  rapid¬ 
ly  for  a  length  of  time  till  their  foreheads  almost  struck  the 
floor,  and  then  altogether  swaying  from  side  to  side.  Sudden¬ 
ly  the  tones  changed,  and  sounds  like  the  barking  of  large 
dogs  followed.  This  continued  for  at  least  twenty  minutes ; 
and  often  the  musical  time  and  vehemence  of  utterance  and 
action  increased  till  all  seemed  ready  to  faint,  and  were,  appa¬ 
rently,  quite  insensible  to  the  presence  of  external  objects. 
Upon  a  signal  from  the  superiors  they  suddenly  ceased  ;  and 
after  a  little  pantomimic  action  and  changingof  position,  re¬ 
sumed  their  exercise,  but  again  in  a  totally  different  strain  and 
with  frightful  vehemence.  The  action  seemed  to  be  involun¬ 
tary,  and  every  fibre  of  their  bodies  appeared  to  be  strained 
by  it.  At  length,  in  the  midst  of  this  excitement,  one  of  them 
appeared  perfectly  frantic :  he  fell  heavily  on  the  floor,  strik¬ 
ing  it  with  his  head  and  hands,  writhing  about  with  hideous 
contortions,  and  crying  also  at  the  utmost  pitch  of  his  voice, 

*  1  Kings  xviii.  28. 


4:24 


HOWLING  DERVISHES - JOURNEY  TO  BROUSSA. 


u  Allah  ! - Al — lah  ! - Mahommed  ! - Mahom — med !” 

Then,  as  if  in  extreme  agony,  he  gnashed  his  teeth,  and 
foamed  at  the  mouth.  Several  of  the  Dervishes  came  to  his 
assistance,  while  the  rest  continued  their  hideous  exercise. 
Scarcely  had  he  become  a  little  calm,  when  he  fell  into  a  stu¬ 
por  ;  and  another  broke  out  in  the  same  manner.  A  further 
change  of  ceremonies  took  place  ;  and  amidst  all  their  wild 
extravagances,  sick  persons  were  led  before  the  superior,  who 
touched  and  breathed  upon  them,  and  bestowed  a  benediction. 
Others,  who  were  too  sick  to  attend  in  person,  sent  various 
garments  to  be  breathed  upon  and  blest.  All  who  approached 
the  superior  kissed  his  hand  and  offered  him  a  great  show  of 
reverence.  It  is  impossible  to  convey  an  accurate  idea  of  such 
a  scene.  We  did  not  await  the  conclusion.  We  had  seen 
and  heard  enough  to  give  us  a  humbling  sense  of  the  power 
of  superstition  over  the  natural  mind  of  man,  and  to  make  us 
more  thankful,  I  trust,  for  the  possession  of  a  pure  faith,  upon 
which  the  slightest  act  of  superstition,  in  whatever  form  pre¬ 
sented,  is  a  dishonoring  innovation.  Superstition  is  the  very 
life  of  every  religious  system  that  is  not  of  God  ;  and  in  what¬ 
ever  degree  man  mingles  superstition  or  superstitious  usage 
with  the  elements  of  that  pure  religion  which  is  of  God,  he 
invests  it  with  the  weakness  and  fallacy  of  his  own  fallen 
humanity. 

Before  quitting  Constantinople,  we  resolved  on  a  visit  to 
Broussa ,  which  is  the  Cheltenham  or  Malvern  of  Turkey.  It 
is  on  the  Asiatic  side.  A  sail  of  about  seven  hours  brought 
us  to  Ghemlickh — a  miserable  Greek  town,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  make  out  a  poor  subsistence  by  the  cultivation  of  silk¬ 
worms,  and  a  little  fishing.  Its  situation  is,  however,  very 
beautiful ;  and  the  harbor,  when  viewed  from  the  shore,  has 
the  effect  of  a  very  lovely  lake,  bounded  by  lofty  hills  on  both 
sides.  On  landing,  we  found  a  great  part  of  the  inhabitants 
loitering,  smoking  and  sleeping.  Utter  indolence  was  the 
order  of  the  day.  A  few  of  the  more  active  people  crowded 
round  us,  offering  a  very  considerable  choice  of  wretched 
horses  to  eonvey  us  to  Broussa.  It  was  not  difficult  to  make 


OLYMPUS. 


425 


a  selection  when  all  were  so  bad.  We  certainly  cut  a  gro¬ 
tesque  figure  when  fairly  mounted  for  a  seven  hour’s  ride. 
The  manes  and  tails  of  the  poor  horses  appeared  as  if  they 
had  never  been  pulled,  and  their  coats  as  if  they  had  never 
once  been  groomed.  The  saddles  were  mere  bundles  of  old 
woollen  rags  and  leather.  As  to  the  bridles,  it  would  be  dif¬ 
ficult  to  determine  of  what  materials  they  were  composed. 
The  road  to  Broussa  is  very  agreeable,  and  in  some  parts 
really  beautiful — lying  over  and  between  mountains  clothed 
with  the  richest  oak  timber  and  underwood.  When  rather 
more  than  half  way,  a  sudden  turn  in  the  road  gave  us  a  full 
view  of  Olympus — the  noble  and  distinguishing  feature  of  this 
charming  district  of  Asia  Minor.  It  stood  before  us  with  an 
air  of  indescribable  majesty — skirted  below  with  immense 
forest-sweeps,  while  its  bold  summit,  partly  white  with  snow, 
towered  upwards  as  if  in  the  repose  of  conscious  permanence  ; 
and  certainly,  though  the  poetic  fancy  of  a  past  age  did  not 
invest  it  with  divine  honors,  but  rather  selected  the  Thessalian 
Mount — yet  Olympian  Jove  might  have  been  proud  at  finding 
himself  enthroned  on  so  noble  and  glorious  an  elevation.  As 
a  natural  object  merely,  without  any  enrichment  of  either 
classical  or  scriptural  associations,  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
had  my  mind  more  impressed  by  the  calm  grandeur  of  any 
object,  than  by  that  of  Olympus.  Its  vastness  interfered  not 
with  its  gracefulness.  Its  gracefulness  waited  like  a  hand¬ 
maid  upon  its  vastness.  While  on  the  height  from  which 
Olympus  first  became  visible,  we  looked  down  into  a  richly 
wooded  plain,  stretching  along  to  the  very  base  of  the  moun¬ 
tain-range,  at  the  extremity  of  which,  overshadowed  by  the 
hanuins:  forests  of  the  mount,  and  embosomed  in  luxuriant 
foliage,  lay  Broussa,  with  its  white  domes  and  minarets.  As 
we  advanced,  the  setting  sun  cast  an  empurpled  lustre  over 
the  sides  and  peaks  of  Olympus — presenting  such  a  vision  of 
august  natural  beauty  as  would  have  kept  an  ardent-hearted 
painter  wakeful  during  every  hour  of  the  night.  In  Broussa 
itself  there  is  nothing  very  remarkable,  beyond  its  most 
charming  situation,  and  its  abundance  of  thermal  springs, 


426 


THOUGHTS  OF  HOME. 


chiefly  alkaline  and  sulphurine,  which  are  beginning  to  ac¬ 
quire  a  great  degree  of  local  celebrity.  During  our  brief 
sojourn,  we  made  a  partial  ascent  of  Olympus,  amidst  its  fine 
forests  of  chestnut  and  oak.  We  could  not  undertake  the  full 
ascent,  which  would  have  cost  us  twelve  hours  at  least,  and 
the  descent  almost  as  many  more.  We  returned  to  Constan¬ 
tinople  on  the  following  day,  by  the  same  route  we  had  come, 
as  the  time  of  our  departure  for  England  was  at  hand. 

I  have  nothing  worth  adding  to  the  numerous  and  minute 
descriptions  of  Constantinople  already  extant,  and  within  the 
reach  of  most  readers  ;  and  I  must  confess,  that  having  been 
permitted  by  Divine  goodness  and  mercy  to  accomplish  the 
main  purpose  of  my  journey — having  trodden  the  length  and 
breadth  of  Immanuel’s  land,  and  being  blest  with  every  indi¬ 
cation  of  restored  health  and  energy — as  the  head  of  a  happy 
family,  I  longed  for  my  home — as  the  pastor  of  a  beloved 
flock,  I  sighed  for  my  spiritual  employments ;  so  that,  even 
Constantinople  itself  became  quite  second-rate,  in  comparison 
with  the  objects  of  my  desire  and  anticipation. 

- Am  I  to  be  blamed  for  either  the  fact  or  the  confes 


si  on  ? 


CHAPTER  XI. 


HOMEWARD. 


Homeward— Danube  Route— Companions— Black  Sea— Varna — Kustanje— -Czerna- 
voda— Nikopol— Widdin—Skelegladova— New  and  Old  Orsova— Mehadia— Wal  ■ 
lachian  peasantry,  etc.— Drencova— Semlin— Peterwarden— The  Danube— Pesth 
—and  Buda—Presburg— Vienna— Schonbrun— Linz— Ober-zell—Passau—Ratisbon 
— German  Apprentices — Nurenburg— Frankfort — The  Rhine— Home. 

- Home  ! — Home  ! - Surely  none  but  they  who  have 

wandered  as  strangers  in  strange  lands,  where  even  their 
native  language  is  unknown,  can  fully  understand  the  charm 
which  hangs  around  the  far-distant  home.  Dear  countenances 
beam  upon  us,  and  beloved  voices  float  over  the  wide  expanse 
to  greet  us,  when  the  imaginative  faculty  essays  to  draw 
present  solace  from  a  recollection  of  the  past,  and  a  hopeful 
anticipation  of  the  future.  I  should  gravely  question  the 
healthiness  of  my  affections,  if  all  the  delights  of  travel — even 
such  as  mine — had  power  to  deaden  my  love  of  home.  My 
happiness  has  been  sought  and  found  at  home.  May  it  be 
ever  so.  A  Pastors  home  comprehends  a  great  deal  ;  country 
— kindred — flock — each  has  its  peculiar  place  in  the  wide 
circle  ;  and  if  his  heart  be  but  right  with  God,  there  is  room 
in  it  for  all. 

While  in  Palestine,  I  had  cherished  the  hope  of  visiting 
Athens,  Corinth,  and  other  parts  of  Greece,  as  well  as  the 
principal  towns  and  cities  of  northern  Italy,  and  Switzerland. 
From  the  days  of  my  boyhood  until  now,  those  scenes  of 
enduring  interest  have  been  the  subjects  of  many  an  eager 
thought  and  desire.  How  all  that  is  august  in  religion, 
heart-stirring  in  history,  and  glowing  in  poesy,  clusters 
round  their  very  names.  Yet,  while  unvisited,  they  are,  to 
the  mental  perception,  little  more  than  names.  I  cannot  so 


428 


HOMEWARD - DAMJBE  ROUTE. 


positively  localize  my  associations  with  them  as  I  can  those 
which  pass  through  my  mind  when  Sinai,  the  Wilderness, 
Jerusalem,  Bethlehem,  Nazareth,  Jordan,  Galilee,  &c.  are 
mentioned.  The  leading  facts  of  Scripture-history  are  now 
written  indelibly  in  my  memory  and  on  my  heart.  My 
Bible  is,  as  it  were,  a  new  book  to  me.  I  do  not  believe 
it  more  firmly,  but  I  feel  it  more  intensely.  I  cannot 
read  it  without  retracing  my  steps  in  all  the  vividness  of 
recollection.  I  am  content  with  the  privileges  I  have  en¬ 
joyed  ;  and  so  I  felt,  when,  giving  up  the  hope  of  Greece, 
we  resolved  on  the  less  attractive,  but  more  direct  home¬ 
ward  route  by  the  Danube.  My  narrative  of  this  will  be 
brief.  My  readers  will  perhaps  be  glad  to  find  it  so,  after 
having  followed  me  through  my  more  delightful  wander¬ 
ings.  It  will  be  like  the  last  stage  of  a  weary  man’s  journey. 

The  steam  navigation  of  the  Danube  is  a  bold  undertak¬ 
ing  ;  and  with  a  few  drawbacks  that  might  be  mentioned, 
for  which  a  thorough-paced  traveller  knows  how  to  make 
sufficient  allowance — it  is  not  very  disagreeable.  If  taken 
as  a  principal  excursion,  it  would  not  be  destitute  of  interest. 
It  brings  you  in  contact  with  parts  of  the  continent  of  Europe 
which  otherwise  would  be  but  little  visited. 

At  about  noon,  on  the  first  of  September,  we  embarked  at 
the  Golden  Horn — the  magnificent  harbor  of  Constantinople, 
on  board  the  Seri-Pervas,  an  Austrian  vessel,  destined  to  con- 
vey  us  up  the  Euxine,  or  Black  Sea,  as  far  as  Kustanje , 
where  the  arrangements  for  the  journey  were  to  be  made. 
Soon  afterwards  we  received  on  board  His  Excellency  Count 
Slurmer — the  Austrian  Internuncio  to  the  Ottoman  Porte 

J 

and  his  Countess,  who  were  on  their  way  to  Vienna.  Judg¬ 
ing  us  to  be  Englishmen,  he  kindly  requested  a  mutual 
acquaintance,  General  Jokmus,  to  introduce  us  to  each  other 
as  those  who  were  to  be  compagnons  de  voyage  for  so  long  a 
time.  All  that  polished  manners,  finely  cultivated  minds 
and  cordial  kindness  could  contribute  to  our  enjoyments,  was 
bestowed  by  our  amiable  friends  during  the  whole  of  our 
delightful  intercourse  ;  and  even  His  Excellency’s  delicacy 


DANUBE  ROUTE - COMPANIONS - BLACK  SEA. 


429 


of  character  and  habit  will  not,  I  am  sure,  be  hurt  when,  on 
reading  this  page,  he  finds  me  telling  my  countrymen  how 
delightful  the  Danube  route  became,  under  the  auspices  of  a 
friendship  so  happily  commenced.  We  found  also  a  kind 
friend,  and  fellow-traveller  to  Vienna,  in  Mr.  La  Fontaine,  a 
European  merchant  of  Constantinople,  whose  attentions  and 
intelligent  conversation  I  have  often  remembered  with  the 
sincerest  pleasure.  If  this  page  should  ever  meet  his  eye,  he 
will  not  doubt  the  cordiality  with  which  I  refer  to  our  many 
hours  of  pleasant  intercourse. 

As  we  sailed  up  the  Bosphorus,  salutes  in  honor  of  the 
Internuncio  were  fired  from  the  Turkish  batteries  ;  and  very 
animated  scenes  presented  themselves.  On  reaching  Therapia , 
the  usual  place  of  residence  for  European  Ambassadors,  sa¬ 
lutes  were  repeated,  and  the  yard-arms  of  several  vessels  in 
port  were  manned  as  he  passed.  From  the  Golden  Horn,  as 
far  as  Therapia,  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus  on  both  sides 
are  very  lovely — few  scenes  can  be  more  so.  Turkish  villa- 
residences  abound  in  all  directions,  often  surrounded  and  sur¬ 
mounted  by  steep  elevations  clothed  with  fine  oaks,  inter¬ 
spersed  with  towering  cypresses.  The  backward  view  of 
Constantinople  is  superb  beyond  description.  Oh  !  that  the 
Cross  could  but  occupy  the  place  of  the  Crescent ;  that  the 
light  of  the  Gospel  could  but  chase  away  the  darkness  of  the 
Koran  ;  then — C/im£m?i-Constantinople  might  become  the 
noblest  capital  in  the  known  world. 

Before  the  evening  closed  we  had  reached  the  Black  Sea 
— the  rough,  u  inhospitable  sea”  of  the  ancients — the  sea  of 
Jason  and  the  golden  fleece.  Though  there  was  nothing  to 
alarm,  yet  it  gave  us  a  tossing  indication  of  its  long  estab¬ 
lished  character.  Next  morning  we  cast  anchor  for  a  few 
hours  at  Varna — a  position  successfully  defended  for  two 
months  by  the  Turks  against  the  Russian  army  ;  and  from 
which  eventually  they  repulsed  the  northern  force.  The 
view  of  Varna  from  the  sea  gives  but  little  idea  of  its  capa¬ 
bility  of  defence.  The  houses  are  of  wooden  construction, 
low  and  mean,  surmounted  by  a  few  white  minarets.  The 


430  KUSTANJE - CZERNAVODA - NIKOPOL - WIDDIN. 

town  is  surrounded  by  a  white  wall  of  no  lofty  dimensions, 
with  loop-holes  for  musquetry.  We  lay  near  to  the  western 
coast  of  the  Black  Sea  as  we  sailed  away  from  Varna,  which 
in  many  parts  was  bold  and  beautiful,  and  included  the  Pon - 
tus  of  Ovid,  and  Tomi  in  Sarmatia,  the  place  of  the  poet’s  ex¬ 
ile.  By  six  o’clock  next  morning  we  were  at  anchor  off 
Kustanje.  The  rain  descended  profusely  ;  and  the  Black 
Sea  frowned  darkly  and  rolled  angrily  as  we  prepared  for  dis¬ 
embarking.  With  some  difficulty  we  reached  the  boat,  and 
were  safely  landed.  Kustanje  is  a  dreary  miserable  Bulga 
rian  village,  inhabited  by  a  few  Boors  ;  and,  but  for  the  Dan 
ube  company,  would  not  have  the  slightest  accommodation  for 
travellers.  We  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  nigh* 
there  at  a  small  comfortless  albergo  ;  and  next  morning,  after 
eight  hours’  drive  over  a  waste  uncultivated  country,  as  dreary 
as  can  be  conceived,  we  reached  Czernavoda  on  the  shore  of 
the  Danube,  when  we  were  soon  fairly  embarked  ;  and  at  five 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  our  journey  commenced.  During 
the  first  two  days  the  banks  of  the  Danube  reminded  me,  in 
many  parts,  of  the  Nile — except  that  l  missed  the  occasiona. 
solitary  palm  trees  and  miserable  Egyptian  villages.  The 
scene  at  length  became  monotonous  and  wearisome  ;  and  but 
for  the  pleasant  society  of  our  Austrian  friends,  the  day  might 
have  ended  in  a  fit  of  the  vapors. 

During  the  first  five  days,  we  passed  only  two  places  of  the 
least  importance — the  first  was  Nikopol  (Nicopolis),  the  place 
where  the  last  peace  between  Austria  and  Turkey  was  estab¬ 
lished.  It  is  a  poor,  though  picturesque  town,  and  occupies  a 
beautiful  site.  The  next  was  Widdin ,  the  principal  town  of 
Bulgaria.  We  went  on  shore  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  wan¬ 
dered  among  the  bazaars,  marking  the  semi-oriental  appearance 
and  habits  of  the  people.  How  poor — how  uncleanly !  The 
Pasha  of  Widdin  (Hussein  Pasha),  was  an  active  instrument 
in  the  hands  of  the  late  Sultan  Mahmoud,  for  the  slaughter  of 
the  Janissaries ;  and  was  promoted  to  his  present  post  as  the  re¬ 
ward  of  his  sanguinary  merit.  I  had  curiosity  enough  to 
wish  for  a  view  of  him,  but  he  was  absent  on  account  of  an 


THE  DANUBE - SKELEGLADOVA - NEW  AND  OLD  ORSOVA.  431 

insurrection,  which  was  then  rife.  We  were,  however,  pre¬ 
sented  by  Mr.  La  Fontaine,  to  his  son — a  youth  of  about  six¬ 
teen,  and  also  to  an  officer,  acting  as  lieutenant  during  the 
Pasha’s  absence.  They  were  seated  on  a  dewan,  in  a  room 
whose  latticed  windows  looked  out  upon  the  Danube.  Soon 
after  taking  our  seats,  we  were  served  as  usual  with  coffee 
and  pipes — the  amber  mouth-pieces  of  which  were  studded 
with  diamonds.  The  young  Turk  remained  silent  during  the 
visit,  glancing  at  us  now  and  then  with  a  look  of  curiosity 
and  inquiry.  The  lieutenant  was  very  conversable  on  small 
matters.  He  expressed  a  vehement  desire  to  visit  England, 
but  avowed  an  unwillingness  to  travel  so  far  by  water. 

About  noon  on  the  ninth  day,  we  reached  Skelegladova , 
where  we  were  transferred  to  towing  boats,  for  the  purpose  of 
passing  the  rapids — a  part  of  the  river  where  the  steamer 
was  impracticable.  The  boats  are  made  without  keels,  on 
account  of  the  great  number  of  rocks  which  are  sometimes 
but  slightly  covered.  This  towing  is  a  very  irksome  affair, 
and  a  great  trial  of  patience.  From  Skelegladova  the  sce¬ 
nery,  on  either  side,  becomes  really  bold  and  beautiful,  some¬ 
thing  after  the  manner  of  lake-scenery  in  England.  In  the 
evening  we  reached  New  Orsova ,  situated  on  an  insular  pro¬ 
montory,  northward,  having  in  connexion  with  it  a  Turkish 
fort  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  We  accompanied  Count 
Sturmer  on  a  visit  of  ceremony  to  the  resident  Pasha,  pre¬ 
ceded  by  a  few  poor,  half-starved  looking  soldiers,  with  drums 
and  fifes,  and  with  the  sound  of  a  salute  from  the  few  small 
cannon  of  the  fort  ringing  in  our  ears.  The  echo  among  the 
surrounding  rocky  heights  was  very  curious.  First,  it  was 
like  a  loud  peal  of  thunder  ;  then  it  was  carried  off  to  a  dis¬ 
tance,  so  as  to  be  scarcely  audible  ;  again  it  returned,  and 
rumbled  on  till  the  next  gun  was  fired.  In  about  another 
hour  we  reached  Old  Orsova ,  which  is  the  frontier  town  of 
the  Austrian  dominions,  and  where  we  were  destined  to  per¬ 
form  a  sort  of  brief  quarantine.  Immediately  on  landing  we 
were  all  conducted  to  the  Lazaretto,  and  made  the  best  of  it ; 
it  was  but  for  a  night  and  part  of  the  next  day.  They  who 


432 


MEHADIA - WALLACHIAN  PEASANTRY. 


have  endured  a  Turkish  quarantine  will  be  little  disposed  to 
complain  of  an  Austrian  one.  Thanks  to  the  kind  Count 
Stunner  for  a  considerable  diminution  of  disagreeables. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  we  were  waited  on  by 
certain  official  personages,  whose  business  it  was  to  examine 
our  baggage,  passports,  &c.  They  performed  their  duty  with 
as  little  inconvenience  to  us  as  possible,  and  furnished  us  with 
the  proper  certificates  of  having  submitted  to  the  quarantine 
and  other  regulations.  Once  more  in  Europe,  we  thus  be 
came  again  subject  to  the  annoyance  of  passports  and  other 
matters  of  police — an  unwelcome  change  for  us  who  had 
passed  from  Alexandria  to  Sinai — from  Sinai  to  Beersheba — 
from  Beersheba  almost  to  Dan,  with  as  much  unrestraint  as 
we  are  accustomed  to  in  our  own  free  country.  Being  again 
at  liberty,  we  enjoyed  a  delightful  day’s  excursion  to  Mehadia 
— the  Matlock  (I  may  so  call  it),  of  Hungary  ;  for  certainly 
it  bears  great  resemblance  to  that  lovely  place  of  resort  in 
England.  Mehadia  is  celebrated  for  its  mineral  springs.  It 
lies  just  within  the  border  of  Hungary — that  border  which 
separates  it  from  Wallachia.  The  drive  from  Old  Orsova  oc¬ 
cupied  about  three  hours.  On  either  side  of  the  road,  hillls 
of  great  boldness  and  beauty,  richly  clothed  with  beech,  fir, 
and  other  forest  trees,  and  skirted  by  carefully  cultivated  vine¬ 
yards,  gave  a  great  charm  to  the  scene  ;  while  a  small  branch 
of  the  Danube,  winding  like  a  thread  of  silver  by  the  road, 
side,  made  sweet  music  in  coursing  over  its  rocky  bed.  We 
saw  great  numbers  of  the  Wallachian  peasantry.  Their  cos¬ 
tume  is  picturesque,  and  their  gait  graceful.  The  women 
(often  very  comely)  wear  a  great  quantity  of  hair  braided  in 
bands  and  twisted  round  the  head,  to  which  they  commonly 
add  the  ornament  of  natural  flowers.  I  frequently  observed 
that  the  hair  was  of  various  colors  ;  and  on  enquiry,  was  in¬ 
formed  that  a  peculiar  and  very  ancient  custom  prevails,  in 
compliance  with  which  a  woman  of  the  present  day  usually 
wears  the  hair  of  several  generations  mingled  with  her  own, 
her  mother’s,  grandmother’s,  and  great  grandmother’s  which, 
on  their  decease  descends  in  the  way  of  natural  inheritance. 


WALLACHIAN  PEASANTRY,  VILLAGES,  ETC  433 

The  peasantry  appear  to  be  a  cleanly,  industrious,  and  happy 
people,  and  most  respectful  in  their  behavior  to  strangers. 
The  Wallachian  villages  are  very  picturesque  in  their  situa¬ 
tion,  and  graceful  in  their  appearance — partaking  frequently 
of  the  Swiss  character.  It  was  delightful  again  to  see  the 
spires  of  Christian  churches  peeping  up  amidst  the  masses  of 
fine  foliage.  The  roofs  of  the  houses,  churches,  and  cottages, 
are  mostly  covered  with  wood,  cut  in  the  form  of  slates  or 
tiles,  and  fastened  with  nails  to  the  rafters.  The  usual  mode 
of  travelling,  among  the  humbler  inhabitants  of  Wallachia, 
is  in  heavy  carts  or  wagons  rudely  constructed  with  poles, 
and  drawn  by  oxen  of  a  handsome  breed.  We  returned  to 
Orsova  by  the  same  route,  after  spending  a  delightful  and 
happy  day ;  and  made  preparations  for  resuming  our  journey 
by  land  towards  Drencova — a  distance  occupying  about  ten 
hours,  for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  some  dangerous  rapids  in 
the  Danube. 

September  eleventh. — I  was  awakened  at  five  o’clock  this 
morning  by  the  sound  of  the  early  bells  announcing  the 
opening  of  the  Sabbath.  Their  tones  forcibly  reminded  me 
of  my  own,  and  increased  in  my  heart  a  desire  which  almost 
grew  into  impatience,  for  the  time  when  I  should  again  enjoy 
Sabbath  ordinances  with  my  beloved  flock.  I  was  very  un¬ 
willing  to  renew  my  journey  on  the  Lord’s  day,  but  it  could 
not  be  avoided.  We  started  soon  after  eight  o’clock,  and 
proceeded  by  a  fine  new  road  along  the  banks  of  the  Danube, 
in  many  parts  cut  out  of  the  bold  rock,  and  constructed  at  the 
sole  expense  of  Count  Zichim — a  large-hearted  and  munifi¬ 
cent  Hungarian  nobleman,  who  seeks  in  every  way  to  im¬ 
prove  the  state  of  his  country.  This  celebrated  road  is  most 
substantially  made,  and  finished  upon  the  principle  of  the 
macadamized  roads  of  England.  The  scenery  of  the  whole 
route  was  magnificent,  and  often  drew  from  us  all  the  strong¬ 
est  expressions  of  delight.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river 
are  still  to  be  seen  the  remains  of  the  road  or  causeway 
formed  by  the  Emperor  Trajan — a  work  of  immense  labor 
and  boldness.  On  reaching  Drencova,  we  were  compelled 

37 


434 


DRENC0VA - SEMLIN - PETER  WARDEN . 


to  crowd  altogether  in  one  small  hotel  for  the  night,  in  order 
to  he  ready  for  recommencing  our  Danube  navigation  on  the 
following  morning.  The  only  person  who  was  really  an¬ 
noyed  by  the  inconveniences  to  which  we  were  exposed,  was 
a  fussy  Frenchman,  who  seemed  both  by  temper  and  habits 
but  ill  calculated  for  roughing  it  up  the  Danube.  What  a 
pity  that  people  who  cannot  put  up  with  traveller’s  fare,  do 
not  keep  quiet  at  home.  Certainly  the  whole  scene  at  Dren- 
cova  was  very  comic ;  and  I  dare  say  our  friends  and  fellow 
travellers  have  had  many  a  laugh  over  it.  The  adventures 
of  travellers  are  often  wondrously  amusing  ;  and  the  shifts  to 
which  they  are  obliged  to  submit,  especially  in  such  a  coun¬ 
try  as  this,  make  them  increase  their  estimate  of  the  comforts 
and  conveniences  of  home. 

Once  more  upon  the  Danube — we  anchored  for  a  few 
hours  at  Semlin ,  and  with  a  fine  view  of  Belgrade ,  the  posi¬ 
tion  of  which  is  bold  and  commanding.  The  mosques  and 
minarets  are  sufficient  proofs  of  its  continued  subjection  to 
the  Turkish  domination.  Beyond  the  city  of  Belgrade,  we 
could  just  descry  the  white  tents  of  a  party  of  Servian  insur¬ 
gents  then  under  arms.  We  next  touched  at  Peterwarden , 
but  not  so  as  to  make  any  particular  observation  ;  and  then 
for  two  days  proceeded,  without  any  object  of  interest  what¬ 
ever,  between  the  flat  shores  formed  by  the  extensive  plains 
of  Hungary.  But  for  our  delightful  companionship  on  board, 
it  would  have  been  a  dreary  time  indeed. 

September  sixteenth. — By  five  o’clock  this  morning,  we 
reached  Pesth — the  modern  capital  of  Hungary,  where  we 
spent  the  whole  day  agreeably  enough.  Pesth,  and  Buda 
the  ancient  capital,  when  viewed  as  parts  of  one  picture,  form 
a  bold  and  interesting  scene.  Pesth  has  a  fine  esplanade  to 
the  water’s  edge,  flanked  by  a  noble  range  of  hotels,  and  sev¬ 
eral  public  buildings  upon  a  large  scale.  On  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river  is  Buda,  occupying  a  commanding  elevation, 
and  approached  from  Pesth  by  a  bridge  of  boats.  The  high¬ 
est  point  is  occupied  by  the  palace  of  the  Viceroy,  the  uncle 
of  the  present  Emperor  of  Austria.  Soon  after  breakfast  we 


THE  DANUBE — PESTH  AND  BUDA. 


435 


visited  the  cathedral.  It  is  in  very  good  taste.  The  nave  is 
constructed  without  the  usual  pillars,  and  supported  by  pilas 
ters  in  the  walls.  The  choir  is  upheld  by  columns  in  the. 
form  of  nave-pillars,  of  dove-colored  marble,  with  gilt  capitals. 
It  is  not  separated  from  the  nave  by  any  screen  ;  and  its 
effect  is  lightness  itself,  and  undoubted  elegance.  The  de¬ 
meanor  of  the  assembled  congregation  was  worthy  a  better 
form  of  Christianity. 

There  is  a  bold  suspension  bridge  in  process  of  erection — 
said  to  be  the  largest  ever  undertaken,  for  the  purpose  of 
permanently  connecting  Pesth  and  Buda.  It  was  commenced 
about  four  years  ago  ;  and  by  this  time,  I  presume,  the  founda¬ 
tions  of  the  piers  may  be  completed.  The  architect  or  engi¬ 
neer,  is  Mr.  Clarke,  an  Englishman.  The  estimate  for  this 
spirited  undertaking  is  said  to  be  £300,000.  While  engaged 
in  examining  the  work,  Count  Sturmer  presented  us  to  Count 
Zichini — the  munificent  Hungarian  to  whom  I  have  already 
referred.  His  appearance  and  manners  were  those  of  a  tho¬ 
roughly  bred,  intelligent  man — full  of  energy  and  force. 
He  conversed  briefly  with  us  in  English,  with  perfect  facility. 
The  English  language  is  much  cultivated  in  Hungary,  and 
English  literature  is  highly  esteemed.  We  afterwards  walked 
through  the  principal  parts  of  the  city,  which  gives  proof  of 
being  the  capital  of  an  improving  country.  Perhaps  the 
effect  of  it  might  be  a  little  heightened,  by  its  strong  contrast 
to  the  scenes  we  had  so  long  been  familiar  with.  Pesth  is 
well  supplied  with  excellent  shops,  furnished  apparently  with 
all  the  necessaries  and  elegancies  of  life.  Every  part  of  it  is 
beautifully  clean,  and  the  streets  are  kept  in  the  best  order. 
It  was,  moreover,  market  day,  which  gave  us  an  opportunity 
of  noticing  the  varieties  of  national  costume,  and  of  seeing  the 
fine  rich  produce  of  the  country.  The  fruits,  vegetables  and 
flowers  were  abundant  and  beautiful.  I  was  much  struck 
with  the  fine  breed  of  horses  in  Hungary — not  only  those 
used  for  the  saddle,  but  for  draught  also.  They  are  very 
powerful  and  active,  and  admirably  formed. 

On  the  following  morning  we  quitted  Pesth,  and  again 


430 


THE  DANUBE - PRESBURG,  ETC. 


committed  ourselves  to  the  steamboat  and  the  Danube.  In 
the  evening  of  the  next  day  we  reached  Presburg — then 
Hamburg ,  with  several  other  places  of  minor  importance, 
amidst  scenery  occasionally  possessing  considerable  beauty. 
At  Presburg  we  spent  an  hour  very  pleasantly,  chiefly  in 
exploring  a  fine  old  Church,  dedicated  to  the  Virgin,  and 
connected  with  a  monastic  establishment.  There  are  many 
interesting  monuments  and  other  matters  about  the  church, 
which  is,  however,  grievously  disfigured  by  statues  badly 
executed,  and  painted  to  represent  the  natural  color  of  flesh. 
They  consist  of  saints,  angels,  martyrs — and  of  Christ  himself 
in  the  agony  of  the  cross.  It  is  quite  distressing  to  see  the 
grossness  of  taste  into  which  the  mind  declines,  while  acting 
under  the  influence  of  a  system  whose  fatal  characteristic  is 
departure  from  the  written  word  of  God  ;  and  which  seeks  to 
stimulate  the  imagination  rather  than  to  purify  the  heart. 
Let  but  the  simple  u  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus”  take  full  posses¬ 
sion  of  the  souls  of  those  poor  monks  who  pointed  out  these 
objects  to  us  ;  let  faith  accomplish  its  perfect  work — and  they 
themselves  would  be  the  first  to  banish  and  account  them 
loathsome.  The  genuine  faith  of  a  true  Christian  needs  not 
to  be  propped  up  by  painted  images  ;  it  stands  firmly,  with¬ 
out  a  crutch  of  man’s  constructing. 

© 

We  reached  Vienna  on  the  nineteenth  of  September,  and 
spent  a  few  days  in  visiting  some  of  the  more  prominent  ob¬ 
jects  of  that  interesting  capital.  The  ancient  city  is  bounded 
by  walls,  and  is  small  in  extent.  Between  it  and  the  suburbs 
is  a  circular  plain,  of  six  or  seven  hundred  yards  in  breadth, 
extending  all  round  the  city,  on  which  none  of  the  modern 
additions  have  been  erected.  This  precaution  has  no  doubt 
added  to  the  salubrity  of  the  place.  In  some  parts  it  is  plant¬ 
ed,  and  has  a  very  agreeable  effect.  The  cathedral  is  a  fine 
specimen  of  the  style  of  Gothic,  usually  denominated  “  florid.” 
The  spire  is  said  to  be  four  hundred  and  forty-seven  feet  high 
— extremely  beautiful ;  and  the  citizens  are  justly  proud  of 
it.  The  archiepiscopal  residence — a  noble-fronted  structure, 
is  immediately  connected  with  the  cathedral.  The  internal 


^IEJNNA. 


437 


enrichments  of  the  church  are  abundant,  but  do  not  distrac 
the  attention.  There  is,  however,  extravagantly  bad  taste 
displayed  in  the  erection  of  modern,  tawdry,  gilt  altars,  with 
the  most  absurd  decorations,  against  the  nave  pillars.  The 
high  altar  is  superbly  enriched  with  splendidly  chased  silver 
furniture.  In  the  eastern  window  is  some  magnificent  old 
stained  glass.  A  very  sombre  air  pervades  the  whole  edifice  ; 
and  upon  minds  suffering  themselves  to  be  influenced  by  ex¬ 
ternals,  its  effect  must  be  very  great. 

The  arsenal  and  armory  are  extensive  ;  and,  in  addition  to 
the  usual  matters  found  in  such  establishments,  contain  many 
interesting  objects — trophies  and  relics  connected  with  the 
history  of  Europe,  which  I  cannot  stay  to  particularize ;  but 
I  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  in  one  of  the  quadrangles 
are  preserved  the  vast  massive  chains  of  iron,  forged  by  the 
Turks,  with  which  they  hoped  to  impede  the  navigation  of 
the  Danube,  when  they  besieged  the  city,  in  1683,  and  were 
effectually  and  finally  repulsed  by  John  Sobieski,  King  of 
Poland. 

We  visited  the  Church  of  the  Augustines,  for  the  sake, 
chiefly,  of  examining  a  deservedly  celebrated  work  of  Canova, 
a  tomb  in  memory  of  Maria  Christina,  daughter  of  Francis 
I.  and  wi'fe  of  Albert,  Duke  of  Teschen.  Its  only  inscription 
is  “  TJxori  optima,  Albertus .”  I  think  I  have  never  before 
found  my  mind  so  affected  by  sculpture  of  the  funereal  kind, 
against  which,  in  general,  I  have  some  sort  of  objection.  This 
work  is  full  of  the  rich  genius  of  Canova.  The  background 
of  the  composition  represents  a  pyramidal  tomb,  the  door  of 
which  is  open.  There  is  a  procession  approaching  it,  the 
figures  of  which  seem  to  breathe.  The  foremost  have  ad- 
vanced  quite  to  the  door.  The  principal  one  is  Virtue  (a 
lovely  female  figure,  habited  in  full,  following  drapery),  bear¬ 
ing  an  urn,  overhung  with  garlands,  towards  which  her  head 
is  bowed.  On  either  side  are  two  other  delicate  female  forms, 
bearing  torches.  Behind  these,  are  three  figures,  the  foremost 
of  which  is  Benevolence — a  charming  female  figure,  leading 
a  graceful  child  and  a  blind  old  man.  On  the  other  side  of 

37* 


438 


VIENNA — SCHONBRUN. 


the  open  entrance  is  a  slumbering-  lion,  upon  whose  shaggy 
sides,  a  winged  male  form,  of  the  most  exquisite  modelling 
reposes.  Like  every  other  beautiful  triumph  of  genius,  it 
must  be  seen  to  be  understood.  The  impression  of  it  is  still 
vivid  in  my  memory.  After  enjoying  this  delightful  produc¬ 
tion,  we  were  conducted  to  a  small  iron-doored  chamber,  or 
cell,  in  which  were  ranged,  in  small  silver  urns  placed  in 
rows,  the  hearts  of  the  sovereigns  and  other  members  of  the 
imperial  families,  from  Maximilian  downwards.  Amongst 
the  most  recently  deposited,  was  the  heart  of  the  son  of  Na¬ 
poleon — the  young  Duke  of  Reichstadt.  Alas !  how  cold 
and  motionless  are  those  hearts  which  once  throbbed  with  am¬ 
bition,  and  swelled  with  human  pride  and  daring !  That 
small  chilly  cell,  contained  as  it  were,  a  little  world  of  hearts 
—what  a  breadth  of  history  do  they  cover ! 

In  the  Convent  of  the  Capuchins,  there  is  an  extensive 
crypt,  in  which  are  deposited  the  other  remains  of  members 
of  the  imperial  family — most  of  them  in  sarcophagi  of  the 
most  splendid  kind,  in  admirable  taste,  and  of  costly  material 
and  workmanship.  They  are,  for  the  most  part,  in  bronze, 
finely  cast  or  sculptured  in  relief,  with  enrichments  of  silver, 
beautifully  chased.  Some  of  the  panels,  in  basso-relievo,  may 
be  spoken  of  as  among  the  finest  specimens  of  the  art.  I 
have  often  thought  it  would  be  desirable  for  some  skilful 
British  artist  to  make  elaborate  drawings  or  engravings  of 
these  beautiful  objects,  that  the  public  at  home  might,  in  some 
degree,  share  the  enjoyment  of  such  an  exhibition.  But  after 
all  that  can  be  said — that  crypt  in  the  Convent  of  the  Capu¬ 
chins  is  rife  with  the  dishonors  of  death,  though  the  rich  crea¬ 
tions  of  genius  live  and  flourish  there — untouched,  untainted 
by  the  worm. 

We  took  an  opportunity  of  visiting  Schonbriin,  one  of  the 
royal  palaces,  between  three  and  four  miles  distant  from  the 
city.  The  site  of  it  is  good  ;  and  was  originally  selected  by 
the  Emperor  Maximilian.  It  was  occupied  by  Napoleon 
while  the  French  troops  held  possession  of  Vienna.  It  is  ap¬ 
proached  through  a  straight  avenue,  of  rather  more  than  a 


SCHONBRUN - VIENNA . 


439 


quarter  of  a  mile  in  length.  The  structure  itself  forms  three 
sides  of  a  quadrangle ;  the  fourth  consists  of  gates,  lodges,  &c. 
The  elevation  is  somewhat  deficient  in  effect ;  and  its  height 
is  disproportioned  to  its  length.  It  is  in  a  kind  of  Italian 
style.  The  Emperor  happened  to  be  in  residence  at  the  time 
of  our  visit,  so  that  we  were  prevented  exploring  the  interior. 
I  am,  at  the  best,  but  a  poor  visitor  of  show-palaces,  either  at 
home  or  abroad — so  the  disappointment  was  but  little.  We 
spent  a  considerable  time  in  the  grounds,  the  nearer  parts  of 
which  are  laid  out  in  the  old  Italian  style — formally  cut  and 
clipped,  and  adorned  with  statues,  fountains,  and  arches.  In 
several  large  reservoirs  were  thousands  of  gold  and  silver  fish, 
so  tame  that  they  came  readily  to  be  fed  when  we  threw 
leaves  or  a  few  blades  of  grass  upon  the  surface.  Beyond  the 
formal  gardens  are  extensive  plantations  of  fine  oaks  and 
beech,  growing  very  luxuriantly.  Schonbriin  is  altogether  a 
delightful  place  of  residence,  and  worthy  the  attention  of  a 
traveller. 

The  gallery  of  the  Prince  Esterhazy  is  an  object  of  great 
interest — less,  perhaps,  to  me  than  to  many  others ;  for, 
though  delighting  in  pictures,  my  mind  is  wearied  and  dis¬ 
turbed  by  large  collections.  I  was  particularly  charmed  with 
some  fine  specimens  of  the  works  of  Wouverman,  Claude, 
Both,  Canalletti,  Rembrant,  Reuysdael,  P.  Potter,  &c.  There 
are  also  many  pictures  of  the  Spanish  school,  amongst  which 
the  Murillos  are  held  in  high  esteem.  There  is  a  noble  work 
of  Christ  before  Pilate.  It  is  Rembrant’s.  The  moment  se¬ 
lected  by  the  painter,  is  that  in  which  Pilate  washed  his 
hands,  declaring  that  he  found  no  fault  in  Him.  The  figure 
of  Christ  is  totally  void  of  that  affectation  so  common  in  many 
modern  masters,  aye,  and  in  some  ancients,  too ;  and  it  is  sub¬ 
dued — quiet — humble — abased.  Pilate’s  countenance,  espe¬ 
cially  in  the  eyes  and  lips,  is  deeply  expressive  of  the  state  of 
his  mind  at  the  moment.  The  figures  in  this  fine  picture  are 
about  half-size. 

The  general  impression  left  on  my  mind  by  the  city  of 
Vienna,  after  this  brief  visit  in  passing,  is  extremely  agreea- 


440 


VJENKA - LINZ — OBER-ZELL. 


ble.  It  presents  far  less  of  what  is  usually  offensive  in  Ro¬ 
man  Catholic  countries,  than  many  principal  cities  and  towns 
which  I  have  visited.  The  churches  and  church  porches  are 
not  infested  by  such  swarms  of  mendicants  as  I  observed  in 
France,  Rome,  and  Naples ;  indeed,  mendicity  scarcely  seems 
to  exist ;  and  even  in  the  suburbs,  where  less  wealthy  classes 
are  to  be  sought  for,  I  saw  but  little  that  gave  me  an  idea  of 
prevalent  poverty.  Cleanliness  and  decency  characterize  the 
city  and  its  inhabitants,  coupled  with  an  external  appearance 
of  good  order. 

We  quitted  Vienna  on  the  twenty-third  of  September,  and 
were  again  on  the  Danube,  in  our  way  to  Linz,  which  we 
reached  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day.  The  town  is 
situate  on  botli  sides  of  the  river,  and  is  beautifully  pictur¬ 
esque.  It  has  the  external  indications  of  wealth  and  prosperity. 
From  the  ramparts  we  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  course  of 
the  Danube  and  its  surrounding  scenery.  On  the  following 
morning,  a  dense  fog,  which  obscured  the  course  of  the  river, 
delayed  us  for  several  hours.  At  length,  we  proceeded  amidst 
lovely  scenes  equalling  any  thing  upon  the  Rhine;  but  in  the 
evening,  the  fog  again  became  so  thick  that  it  was  unsafe  to 
proceed.  We  anchored,  therefore,  at  Ober-zell,  an  inconsider¬ 
able  town  of  Bavaria.  It  was  difficult  for  us  all  to  obtain 
tolerable  accommodations  for  the  night.  However,  like  trav¬ 
ellers  who  had  roughed  it  for  so  many  months,  we  made  our¬ 
selves  as  content  as  we  could  amidst  the  boorish  inmates  of  a 
poor  Bavarian  hotel — where  nothing  but  German  is  eaten, 
drunk  and  spoken.  A  German  bed  is  an  amusing  contri¬ 
vance.  It  consists  of  a  mattrass  below,  with  a  pile  of  downy 
pillows  for  the  head,  packed  together  in  a  kind  of  wooden 
box  ;  and  the  only  covering  is  an  immense  pillow,  the  size  of 
the  mattrass,  stuffed  with  down,  seven  or  eight  inches  thick. 
It  is  no  pleasant  thing,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  to  wake 
and  find  this  curious  invention,  without  any  means  of  fixing 
it,  fairly  spread  upon  the  floor,  or  only  covering  the  sleeper 
crosswise.  At  Ober-zell  we  could  have  only  one  room, 
with  four  of  these  strange  beds  placed  in  a  row.  In  order  to 


PASSAU - RATISBON - GERMAN  APPRENTICES 


441 


secure  this  room  to  ourselves,  we  expressed  our  intention  to  be 
the  tenants,  if  not  occupiers  of  all  the  beds  ;  and  it  seemed 
quite  unintelligible  to  the  Bavarian  chamber-maid,  how  two 
Englishmen  could  possibly  want  four  beds.  However,  our 
will  became  law,  and  we  kept  uninterrupted  possession  of 
our  quarters. 

At  five  o’clock  on  the  following  morning  we  re-embarked 
and  after  a  delightful  passage  of  three  hours,  reached  Passau  ; 
from  whence  our  route  lay  to  Ratisbon.  We  now  took  leave  of 
the  Danube  ;  and  certainly  though  many  interesting  objects 
presented  themselves  to  our  notice,  I  have  but  little  desire  to 
retrace  my  steps.  Our  journey  up  to  Passau  had  cost  us 
twenty-six  days,  accompanied  by  all  the  inconveniences  of 
small  and  ill-adjusted  steamers.  We  were  now  in  Bavaria,  of 
which  Passau  is  a  rather  interesting  ancient  town.  It  is  the  cap¬ 
ital  of  an  episcopal  see.  The  cathedral  is  deemed  one  of  the 
finest  in  Germany.  It  was  originally  Gothic,  but  has  been 
remodelled  after  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome.  I  cannot  say  much  for 
the  taste  that  suggested  the  change.  From  Passau  we  took  a 
carriage  towards  Ratisbon,  resting  in  the  evening  at  Pattsling — 
a  considerable  village,  with  but  rude  accommodation  ;  and  then 
onwards  next  day,  till  we  reached  Ratisbon  at  about  six  in  the 
evening.  The  roads  of  Bavaria  are  excellent ;  and  the  country 
is  exceedingly  well  cultivated.  The  peasantry  appear  healthy 
and  industrious,  and  present  no  indications  of  squalid  poverty. 
A  remarkable  custom  prevails  among  the  apprentices.  For 
the  purpose  of  being  instructed  in  their  respective  trades  and 
occupations,  they  go  from  town  to  town,  seeking  employment 
among  various  masters.  The  most  respectable  do  this,  as  well 
as  the  humbler  ;  and  they  are  not  permitted  to  exercise  their 
various  callings  on  their  own  account,  till  they  have  had  the 
fullest  experience  in  this  way.  They  make  their  progress 
on  foot,  or  get  a  chance  lift  in  an  empty  carriage ;  and  with¬ 
out  assuming  the  air  of  mendicants,  ask  assistance  of  travel¬ 
lers  by  the  way.  It  is  a  custom  well  understood  in  the 
country,  and  there  is  no  sense  of  degradation  connected  with 
it.  We  overtook  many  apprentices  in  our  way,  some  of 


442 


RATISBON - NURENBURG. 


whom  looked  like  clever  and  intelligent  lads.  The  Bava¬ 
rians  are  good  farmers ;  and  the  towns  and  smaller  villages 
have  about  them  an  air  of  comfort  and  respectability.  The 
children  are  commonly  fine  specimens  of  healthiness  and 
natural  beauty. 

Ratisbon  contains  little  to  fix  the  attention  of  the  traveller 
besides  the  cathedral,  which  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  florid 
Gothic — with  very  few  of  the  modern  disfigurements  to 
which  so  many  fine  ecclesiastical  structures  on  the  Continent 
have  been  subjected.  The  general  effect  is  sombre  and 
quietly  graceful,  neither  too  rich  in  ornament,  nor  too  poor. 
The  color  of  the  stone  has  been  defaced  by  time.  The 
groined  roof  has  been  spoiled  by  the  common  disfigurement 
of  whitewash,  for  the  purpose  of  sprinkling  over  it  a  number 
of  gilded  stars.  If  the  roof  could  be  restored,  the  whole 
effect  would  be  all  that  could  be  desired.  The  exterior  has 
been  left  unfinished.  Spires  were  evidently  intended  to 
be  erected  upon  the  towers  over  the  western  entrance, 
which  are  now  only  capped  with  tiles  in  a  pyramidal  form. 
The  greater  number  of  the  inhabitants  of  Ratisbon  are 
Protestants. 

Pursuing  our  journey  by  night,  we  reached  Nurenburg 
early  on  the  morning  of  the  thirtieth  of  September.  It  is  a 
Lutheran  town,  and  remarkable  for  its  fine  cathedral,  which 
contains  some  admirable  specimens  of  the  works  of  Albert 
Durer  in  excellent  preservation.  The  popish  decorations 
still  remain  untouched.  The  inhabitants  of  Nurenburg  are 
considerable  mechanics  in  iron,  steel,  ivory,  wood,  and 
alabaster.  There  is  also  a  great  manufactory  of  toys,  usually 
called  Dutch  toys.  It  has  the  appearance  of  a  wealthy, 
ancient  place.  The  roofs  of  the  houses  are  curiously  con¬ 
structed.  They  are  very  steep,  and  have  several  rows  of 
windows  built  in  them.  From  Nurenburg  we  passed  on 
rapidly,  by  night,  through  Wurtzburg  to  Frankfort  where 
we  arrived  in  the  afternoon,  and  there  fixed  ourselves  for  a 
few  days  at  the  Hotel  de  Russie — a  truly  comfortable  place 


FRANKFORT. 


443 


of  sojourn,  after  all  we  had  put  up  with  since  quitting  Con¬ 
stantinople. 

Frankfort  has  an  entirely  modern  aspect ;  and  the  ex¬ 
tremely  flat  regularity  and  whiteness  of  its  buildings  becomes 
wearisome  to  the  eye.  It  is  beautifully  clean,  and  has  the 
appearance  of  a  prosperous  town.  The  cathedral  is  very 
poor  indeed.  The  public  library  is  a  delightful  place  of  resort. 
In  the  entrance  hall  is  a  noble  statue  of  Goethe.  It  is  indeed 
an  admirable  work,  and  worthy  of  its  great  subject.  There 
is  a  grandeur  of  repose  about  it,  quite  indescribable.  Every 
true  Protestant  who  visits  the  library  of  Frankfort,  gazes  with 
delight  upon  the  autographs  of  those  men  of  God — mighty- 
hearted  Luther ,  and  gentle  Melancthon — the  spiritual  cham¬ 
pions  of  an  iron  age,  for  whom  and  for  whose  achievements 
we  praise  God  in  the  same  degree  in  which  we  love  our 
Bibles,  and  live  upon  the  unmingled,  unadulterated  truth  of 
God — “  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.”  Though  the  hands  that 
traced  those  names  are  dust,  yet  their  record  is  written  on 
high,  and  they  are  embalmed  in  the  memory  of  the  people  of 
God.  Even  the  rude  shoe  of  Luther,  preserved  with  venera¬ 
tion,  and  shewn  in  the  library,  is  an  object  from  which  one 
cannot  turn  away  without  many  a  thought  directed  towards 
him  who  trod  the  difficult  way  of  duty  in  the  firm  majesty 
of  truth — though  all  that  was  terrible  in  earthly  domination 
and  spiritual  despotism  sought  to  frown  him  off  from  his 
integrity  of  purpose. 

Frankfort,  and  the  adjacent  parts  of  Germany,  are  now  so 
generally  known  and  so  frequently  visited  by  the  English, 
that  English  faces  and  English  sounds  prevail  in  every  part. 

I  felt  all  the  time  as  if  I  were  on  the  very  boundaries  of  home. 
If  the  reader  be  half  as  impatient  for  the  end  of  my  narrative, 
as  I  was  for  home,  he  will  be  disposed  to  skip  over  the 
remainder  of  this  chapter,  and  sympathize  with  me  in  the 
concluding  one. 

Our  route  lay  down  the  Rhine,  of  which  so  much  has  been 
said  and  sung  and  sketched  and  painted,  that,  really,  I  have 
nothing  to  tell,  further  than  that  we  reached  Mayence  by  the 


444 


THE  RHINE — HOME. 


short  railroad,  and  steamed  down  the  Rhine  to  Cologne,  of 
which  expedition  every  drawing-room  table  abounds  with 
details,  graphic  and  literary.  From  Cologne  to  Aix-la. 
Chapelle  was  but  a  railroad  step ;  and  from  thence  to  Liege 
by  diligence,  a  dreary  drag  of  eight  hours.  Then  came 
Courtray — Ypres — and  last  of  all,  Calais,  and  the  far-famed 
hotel  of  “  Monsieur  Dessm ,”  our  final  continental  resting 
place  j  and  then,  next  morning,  midway  in  the  British  Chan¬ 
nel  looking  right  ahead — What  are  those  white  cliffs,  and 
that  little  sparkling  town  below,  and  those  masts  bearing  a 
well-known  flag  ? - 

- Oh  joy !  It  is  Dover — England — my  father-land  ; 

the  home  of  my  family — of  my  flock — my  own  beloved 
home  ! 

A  brief  space — and  the  anchor  was  cast.  With  a  calm 
and  thankful  spirit  I  again  stood  on  the  venerated  shores  of 
highly-gifted  England — a  better  man,  I  trust ;  if  not  at  least 
I  think  a  wiser. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


FINAL. 


rhe  glowing  interest  about  the  Holy  Land— Inferences— Fulfilled  and  unfulfilled 

prophecy — Conclusion. 


Once  more  at  home,  and  with  the  familiar  and  beloved 
objects  and  pursuits  of  home  around  me,  I  sometimes  find  it 
difficult  to  muse  upon  the  substance  of  my  narrative,  other¬ 
wise  than  as  the  recollection  of  a  bright  vision  that  has  past 
away  for  ever.  But  if  I  have  fulfilled  my  intention,  there 
will  be  deposited  in  the  mind  of  the  intelligent  reader,  a  deep 
— an  abiding  sense  of  reality,  which  will  gain  strength  as  he 
dwells  upon  the  records  of  inspiration  ;  for  he  will  go  on 
steadily  filling  up  the  outlines  of  thought  which  I  have 
rapidly  sketched  out  before  him.  The  reader  who  does  not 
love  his  Bible,  will  doubtless  deem  mine  a  dull  narrative 
indeed — to  him  it  must  be  so ;  for  certainly  all  the  interest 
with  which  it  may  be  invested  is  dependent  upon  Holy 
Scripture,  and  the  previous  deposit  of  its  wondrous  contents  in 
the  heart. 

It  is  a  remarkable  feature  of  the  present  times,  that  there 
should  be  an  almost  universal — an  unprecedented  interest  felt 
and  manifested  in  all  that  relates  to  the  Holy  Land.  The 
most  intellectual  and  gifted  are  never  weary  of  inquiring;  and 
the  humblest  artizan  will  suspend  his  labor  that  he  may  listen. 
Artists  love  to  portray  its  venerable  scenes ;  and  all  men  gaze 
on  them  with  wonder  and  delight.  Moreover,  those  who 
possess  the  means — the  Jew  and  the  Gentile,  the  Poet  and  the 
Philosopher,  the  Scholar  and  the  Divine — the  subjects  of  most 
kingdoms,  the  dwellers  in  distant  climes — are  daily  bending 
their  steps  to  the  land  of  Scripture-history;  and  soon,  I 

38 


446  THE  GROWING  INTEREST  ABOUT  THE  HOLY  LAND. 

imagine,  the  route  will  become  as  familiar  as  the  “  grand 
tour”  has  been  for  the  last  half  century.  All  this  increase  of 
interest  is  the  growth  of  but  few  years.  Time  was,  when 
only  a  few  bold,  enthusiastic  and  daring  spirits  went  forth  as 
pioneers,  braving  danger  and  enduring  privation  for  the  sake 
of  pushing  their  inquiries  to  the  utmost.  Some  of  these  were 
Christian — one,  an  infidel ;  but  all  have  in  their  way  helped 
to  open  more  widely  the  volume  of  inspiration  ;  and  even 
Yolney  himself — the  infidel  Yolney,  has,  in  the  purpose  of 
God,  been  remarkably  instrumental  to  the  manifestation  of 
truths  which  he  daringly  sought  to  assail.  And  now,  looking 
to  the  labors  of  later  years,  we  find  a  mass  of  authentic  infor¬ 
mation  placed  on  record,  which,  by  evidencing  the  literal  and 
exact  fulfilment  of  prophecy  in  its  minutest  particulars,  serves 
to  define  the  ground  on  which  we  are  to  stand  while  seeking 
out  the  interpretation  of  prophecy  yet  to  be  fulfilled.  And  it 
is  not  easy  to  suppose  that  any  important  addition  can  be  made 
— except,  it  may  be,  in  reference  to  geological  science,  and 
some  few  other  particulars  of  the  physical  condition  of  the 
Holy  Land. 

And  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  there  has  been  no  spirit 
of  mere  worldly  enterprize  at  work  in  this  movement.  Men 
have  not  gone  out,  and  are  not  now  doing  so,  for  the  purpose 
of  securing  temporal  interests — and  just  stumbling  upon  truth 
by  the  way;  far  otherwise.  Most  candid-minded  men  have 
gone  with  their  Bibles  in  their  hands,  in  the  simple  hope  of 
understanding  more  exactly  what  the  Bible  contains.  In  the 
days  of  the  crusades,  Palestine  was  thronged  by  ardent-spirited 
men  ;  but  they  went  for  a  different  end.  They  hoped  to  earn 
an  earthly  honor  and  a  glorious  name,  in  what  they  deemed  a 
spiritual  chivalry.  They  went  with  a  closed  Bible  and  an 
unsheathed  sword.  The  sword  at  length  returned  to  its  scab¬ 
bard  and  rusted  there — the  Bible  remained  clasped.  Our 
earliest  views  of  Palestine  are,  therefore,  little  better  than 
fabulous  dreamings.  But,  with  the  singleness  of  purpose 
which  has  characterized  the  men  of  a  later  day,  we  see  at 
once  an  important  result  connected ;  and  I  will  venture  to 


INFERENCES,  ETC. 


447 


affirm  that  the  whom  Bible  is  now  more  fully  and  simply 
apprehended  than  in  any  previous  age  of  the  world. 

From  these  matters  of  fact,  I  think  two  things  are  plainly 
deducible,  from  which  we  may  perhaps  humbly  infer  some- 
what  of  the  intention  of  the  Divine  mind.  First,  that  the 
Bible,  as  a  revelation  from  God,  has  been  steadily  assuming 
its  true  position  in  the  estimation  of  men,  and  that  the  more 
thoughtful  are  rapidly  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  the  fate 
and  fortunes  of  kingdoms  and  people  are  positively  involved 
in  the  reception  or  rejection  of  Bible-truth.  Secondly,  that 
there  is  felt  to  be  a  peculiar  and  positive  relation  between  the 
present  state  and  final  prospects  of  God’s  ancient  people  Israel, 
and  the  announcements  of  His  unchangeable  word  concern¬ 
ing  them  ;  and  along  with  this,  a  growing  interest,  as  univer¬ 
sal  as  the  circulation  of  the  Bible,  in  whatever  concerns  the 
Jewish  people — so  long  despised  and  accounted  vile  and 
hopeless. 

Now  if  the  intention  of  the  Divine  mind  be  really,  m  any¬ 
wise,  indicated  by  these  things,  may  we  not  fairly  inquire  to 
what  end  it  is  probably  directed  ?  And  may  we  not  soon  and 
safely  arrive  at  the  conclusion,  that  it  is  towards  a  preparation 
of  the  church  for  a  signal  fulfilment  of  prophecy?  I  am 
inclined  to  suppose  that  the  preparation  of  the  church  will  be, 
not  the  result  of  any  marvellous  or  miraculous  means,  but 
rather  the  consequence  of  a  series  of  events,  and  of  a  course 
of  procedure  which,  upon  a  superficial  view,  will  seem  to  be 
only  the  result  of  a  progressive  development  of  mind  and 
mental  perception  ;  but  which  will  really  have  the  whole 
purpose  of  God  involved  in  it.  Clear  views  of  prophecy  will 
at  length  be  extensively  embraced.  The  things  prophecied 
will  be  deemed  desirable  in  the  highest  degree  ;  and  next 
they  will  appear  plainly  practicable  ;  and  as  this  state  of  mind 
in  the  church  progresses,  she  will  be  so  much  the  more  pre¬ 
pared  for  the  fulfilment.  With  every  fresh  ray  of  Bible-light 
imparted  by  the  Holy  Spirit  to  a  waiting,  prayerful  church, 
some  direct  purpose  of  God  will,  doubtless,  be  connected. 
All  the  confidence  which  the  church  enjoys  stands  upon  pro 


448 


FULFILLED  AND  UNFULFILLED  PROPHECY. 


phecies  fulfilled,  and  promises  made  good.  Every  thing  for 
which  she  hopes  fervently  and  waits  humbly  is  announced  in 
prophecy  and  secured  by  promise — in  prophecy,  yet  to  he 
opened — in  promise  yet  to  be  realized.  As  the  church’s  view 
of  unfulfilled  prophecy  and  promise  becomes  clearer,  her  hope 
will  become  brighter,  and  she  will  wait  with  a  more  patient 
humility — alive  with  confiding  expectation.  It  is  not,  then, 
out  of  a  spirit  of  mere  curiosity  that  thoughtful  men  are 
exploring  the  Holy  Land,  and  investigating  things  as  they 
are,  in  the  light  of  revelation. 

And  here  we  may  ask — To  what  does  the  great  bulk  of 
unfulfilled  prophecy  and  promise  point?  We  answer — 
mainly  to  two  august  events,  involving  many  subordinate 
ones.  Those  events  are  the  second  coming  and  kingdom 
of  Messiah,  and  the  final  restoration  of  Israel.  I  do  not  here 
venture  any  opinions  as  to  the  mode  or  circumstantials  of 
either  ;  but  I  only  direct  attention  to  them  as  events  divinely 
announced,  and  therefore  to  be  expected  ;  and  moreover,  as 
events  which  I  deem  to  be  positively  connected  with  each 
other  in  the  divine  purpose.  Now  then,  let  the  Church  be 
in  her  proper  attitude  of  expectation,  and  she  will  be  steadily 
preparing  herself  for  the  events.  The  germ,  so  to  speak,  of 
that  preparation  is  I  think  easily  traceable  in  the  movement 
to  which  1  have  referred  ;  and  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  it 
will  not  be  long — very  long,  ere  the  scriptural  position  and 
prospects  of  the  Jews  will  be  extensively  recognized,  and 
the  way — God’s  way,  prepared  for  their  final  restoration.  I 
confess  I  cannot  account  lor  the  unparalleled  interest  which 
the  very  name  of  the  Holy  Land  now  so  generally  awakens 
in  the  world,  upon  any  principles  but  those  which  I  have 
glanced  at  in  these  pages.  But  I  must  not  dwell  upon  the 
subject  here.  It  is  too  vast  both  in  its  nature  and  bearings  ; 
and  besides,  I  do  hope  I  may  have  grace  and  strength  to  ma¬ 
ture  my  views  in  the  light  of  Scripture  and  careful  observa¬ 
tion,  so  as  to  treat  them  with  some  degree  of  clearness  in  a 
volume  supplementary  to  this.  None  but  those,  who  like 
myself,  have  trodden  u  Immanuel’s  land,”  and  tracked  Israel 


CONCLUSION. 


449 


in  their  wanderings  through  “  the  great  and  terrible  wilder¬ 
ness,”  can  fully  understand  the  emotion  with  which  from  time 
to  time  I  muse  upon  their  past  history  and  future  prospects. 
Would  that  I  could  impart  it  to  those- who  may  glance  upon 
these  pages.  But  I  do  entertain  a  hope,  that  the  growing  in¬ 
terest  will  ere  long  become  so  deep  and  so  expansive,  that 
from  all  Christendom  there  shall  go  forth  the  cry — “  Lord, 
wilt  thou  at  this  time  restore  the  kingdom  of  Israel  ?” — the 
kingdom  that  shall  be  glorious  under  the  royal  sceptre  of  the 
Seed  of  David. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  learnt  many  a  lesson  amidst  the 
toils  of  travel,  which  I  never  could  have  acquired  so  well 
even  in  the  quietest  retirement  of  literary  leisure,  had  such 
been  my  lot.  My  heavenly  Father  who  saw  good  to  suspend 
my  pastoral  exertions  by  enfeebled  health,  was  graciously 
providing  for  my  heart’s  refreshment  and  for  my  soul’s  nou 
rishment  in  the  truth.  If  I  have  not  laid  bare  to  my  readers’ 
perception  the  whole  result  of  my  experience,  it  is  solely  be¬ 
cause  there  are  parts  of  it  which  lie  too  deep  for  verbal  ex¬ 
pression,  and  which  have  become  blended  with  my  being,  ra¬ 
ther  than  reflected  on  my  mind. 

I  look  back  upon  the  past  with  wonder,  delight  and  grati¬ 
tude.  I  shall  never  cease  to  do  so  while  my  memory  lasts. 
Perhaps  the  retrospection  has  afforded  me  far  deeper  enjoy 
ment  amidst  the  effort  of  authorship,  than  any  can  expect  to 
draw  from  a  perusal  of  these  pages.  In  the  pointed  language 
of  an  elder  traveller  in  the  same  scenes,*  I  may  add,  u  The 
parts  I  speak  of  are  the  most  renowned  countries  and  king¬ 
doms  ;  once  the  seats  of  most  glorious  and  triumphant  em¬ 
pires  ;  the  theatres  of  valor  and  heroical  actions  ;  the  soils  en¬ 
riched  with  all  earthly  felicities  ;  the  places  where  nature 
hath  produced  her  wonderful  works  ;  where  arts  and  sciences 
have  been  invented  and  perfected  ;  where  wisdom,  virtue, 
policy,  and  civility  have  been  planted  and  have  flourished 
and  lastly,  where  God  himself  did  place  his  own  common 


*  George  Sandys,  1632. 
38* 


450 


CONCLUSION. 


wealth,  gave  laws  and  oracles,  inspired  his  prophets,  sent  an’ 
gels  to  converse  with  men — above  all,  where  the  Son  of  God 
descended  to  become  man  ;  where  he  honored  the  earth  with 
his  beautiful  steps,  wrought  the  work  of  our  redemption,  and 
ascended  into  glory : — which  countries,  once  so  glorious,  and 
famous  for  their  happy  estate,  are  now  through  vice  and  in¬ 
gratitude,  become  the  most  deplored  spectacles  of  extreme 
misery — the  wild  beasts  of  mankind  having  broken  in  upon 
them,  and  rooted  out  all  civility,  and  the  pride  of  a  stern  and 
barbarous  tyrant  possessing  the  thrones  of  ancient  and  just 
dominion  ;  who,  aiming  only  at  the  height  of  greatness  and 
sensuality,  hath  in  tract  of  time  reduced  so  great  and  goodly 
a  part  of  the  world  to  that  lamentable  distress  and  servitude, 
under  which,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  understanding  be¬ 
holders,  it  now  faints  and  groaneth.  Those  rich  lands  at  this 
present  remain  waste  and  overgrown  with  bushes,  receptacles 
of  wild  beasts,  of  thieves,  and  murderers ;  large  territories 
dispeopled,  or  thinly  inhabited  ;  goodly  cities  made  desolate  ; 
sumptuous  buildings  become  ruins ;  glorious  temples  either 
subverted  or  prostituted  to  impiety — true  religion  discounte¬ 
nanced  and  oppressed ;  all  nobility  extinguished  ;  no  light  of 
learning  permitted,  nor  virtue  cherished  ;  violence  and  rapine 
insulting  over  all  and  leaving  no  security  save  to  an  abject 
mind,  and  unlooked  on  poverty ;  which  calamities  of  theirs 
so  great  and  deserved,  are  to  the  rest  of  the  world  as  threaten¬ 
ing  instructions . thence  to  draw  a  right  image  of  the 

frailty  of  man,  the  mutabiltty  of  whatsoever  is  worldly  ;  and 
assurance  that  as  there  is  nothing  unchangeable  saving  God, 
so  nothing  stable  but  by  his  grace  and  protection.” 

And  now — my  pilgrimage  is  ended — my  labor  finished. 
Henceforth  I  will  be  a  pilgrim  to  the  Heavenly  Canaan  and 
the  New  Jerusalem  ;  and  I  will  go  forth  leaning  on  the  cross 
of  my  adorable  Redeemer,  and  looking  to  His  righteousness 
alone  for  my  place  in  the  kingdom,  and  my  share  in  the 
coming  glory. 

Oh  !  that  the  Pilgrim-Pastor  and  a  goodly  growing  Flock 


CONCLUSION. 


451 


may  journey  onward  in  faith  and  love  together,  singing — 
‘‘  Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins 
IN  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto 
God  and  his  Father  ;  to  Him  be  glory  and  dominion,  for 
EVER  AND  EVER  !  AMEN.” 


3*  * 


✓  _  _ _ * 

DATE  DUE 

<  -( 

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GAYLORD 

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